Earning The Badge
by BunnyRock
Summary: Nicholas Wilde sighed "You know, if this was a movie, they'd just cut from me saving the day at the museum to me getting the badge. Cut out all that tedious, messy, inconvenient hard work and training that wouldn't look good on film." Nick wants to join the ZPD but real life is messy: a criminal conspiracy, having to get a job, and work out what his relationship with Judy is? Messy
1. Case One, part one: Retail Therapy

**Earning the badge.**

 **Prologue:**

Nicholas Wilde twitched his ears and adjusted his tie as he lay on the couch, gesticulating.

"I mean a mandatory waiting period. Who's bright idea was that? Yes I understand that it costs the city a lot of money to even run background checks and pre-interview checks on applicants, of course I do. I mean yes, I know that you don't want to send someone to the academy and then when they get there discover 'oh Whoopsie! I don't want to be a cop. Silly little me, actually I always wanted to be an astronaut, or an actuary, or an astronaut-actuary or something equally ridiculous because _somehow_ I expect mammals to actually care about my dreams'. I mean, yes, I understand that the city _needs_ to discourage spurious applications to save money, but really: a three month mandatory waiting period before they'll even _read_ my application? Just to make double-supper-sure that I'm serious? I mean, that's just criminal: and I'd know."

Nick sighed.

"You know, if this was a movie, they'd just cut from me saving the day at the museum, to me getting the badge, you know. Cut out all that tedious, messy, inconvenient hard work and training that wouldn't look good on film. Or at least shorten it to a montage, or something. Maybe with a nice voice-over. By me, obviously. I'd need to narrate this, although I guess Judy would do in a pinch." He looked at the ceiling for some time, and then made a contemplative face and nodded a few times.

"Actually, it could work with Judy. It'd add pathos nicely." He conceded. "But the point is, they'd gloss over the hard bits. Make it an inspiring story about the power of Mammals to make the world a better place, and not show the _effort_ it takes to do that. They'd make it clean and simple, and real life is never _that_ clean and simple."

"Life is messy." Said the voice, accompanied by the quiet scribbling of a pen on paper.

"Exactly!" said Nick, snapping his fingers. "Real life is messy. You know, Judy always says that, and she's right."

"Judy being the police officer who worked with you on this…" the Platypus physiatrist checked his notes briefly. "This… _night-howler c_ ase."

Nick looked over, horrified.

"Seriously?" he asked. "Seriously, you didn't read about that one in the papers? See it on the news? Get it in your newsfeed, at all? City in a panic, world-shattering conspiracy, corruption at the highest level of city hall, twice, anti-predator riots, plucky downtrodden street-smart fox and goofy well-meaning bunny cop sidekick save the day? None of this ringing a bell at all?" he held out a paw. "Please don't ring any bells: If you promise not to, I promise not to drool on the couch. You know, I'm surprised you even let canines on the furniture. It's very progressive of you Doc."

The shrink rolled his eyes.

"Ha. Ha." He said sarcastically "You're a very articulate fellow, you know." He said, patronisingly. "Oh, right _that_ case. Sorry: I was on a Golfing holiday that week. I did read a commentary on it in _The Zootopian_ I think. There was quite a good political cartoon about the assistant mayor, a sheep in sheep's clothing, I believe. So, you see yourself as the hero of this story? That's very interesting."

Nick put his face in his paws. "Oh god, I knew that this was a bad idea. Look, Doc, I… I just need to work some things out, okay? Get some stuff straight in my head. If we could just accept that I may or may not have grandiose delusions of grandeur that I like, and that I'm perfectly happy with, and move on to fixing the bits about me that I _don't_ like, that'd be swell." He looked to the ceiling for a moment, and then back to the psychiatrist.

"Doesn't work like that?" he asked, half sarcastic and half pleading.

"Doesn't work like that. All or nothing. Sorry. So tell me about Judy. From what you've said so far, she seems to have been the catalyst for this sudden change in you."

Nick snorted. "Yeah, yeah you could say that, I guess. She's pretty much the _entire_ reason I'm doing this. I mean… I've been a hustler since I was twelve years old. Twelve. I just… I just drifted along quite happily, well, not exactly _happily_ but, you know… it worked. I… look I told you about the thing at Junior Ranger Scouts with the…" he made a quick gesture to his mouth with two fingers, and shifted uncomfortably.

"And for a long time, I let how other mammals saw me define how I saw myself. If all they see is a shifty, untrustworthy fox, then that's all you ever show them. I… I settled. I guess almost everyone does. I decided that since believing in my dreams was hard, and since settling into being what everyone saw anyway was easy, then why not? But Judy, well, she's not a settler. I think I shook her up a bit. A lot, actually, forced her to confront some of her pre-conceptions, and I think she probably sees me as a big catalyst for change in her life, and that's not my delusions of grandeur, I think that's true… but if she had _any_ idea how much she shook me up, how much she challenges my preconceptions… well. I think I'm getting the best out of this deal, to be honest. She… she was a pretty good mammal to start with, and I hope I made her a better one, but that's… that's peanuts, no, that's _carrots_ compared to what she's done for me."

Nick crossed his paws behind his head. "She's… she's kind of a big deal, actually."

"She sounds like a remarkable person." said the Physiatrist, as Nick nodded along in agreement, trying to lever the little plastic lid of his blueberry-spice latte without spilling any on the couch, and finally smiling with relief as he got into it and took a sip.

"Are you sexually attracted to her at all?" the psychiatrist asked.

Nick's cheeks inflated, and he snorted hot coffee out of his nose and then sat up and started desperately trying to towel latte off his shirt and pants as he choked back coffee and tears and made inarticulate noises, to the physiatrists well concealed amusement. Eventually he was able to talk.

" _Jeeeez_ Doc, Firstly, did you _have_ to do that when I had a mouth full of hot coffee? I mean really? It's your couch, and I bet getting stains out of the parquet floor is the devil's own work. Were you that bored? Am I boring you? And secondly, what sort of question is that to ask a guy?"

The psychiatrist leaned back and doodled on his note book. "Oh, well, I don't know, just the sort of question _literality anyone_ with half a brain would expect a psychiatrist to ask. It's one of the four basics."

"The four basics?" asked Nick, trying to towel his scalded crotch dry with the tissue box left for patients who were feeling a little emotional, which to be fair, he now was, just not in the expected manner. The Platypus looked over his glasses, and nodded, holding up a webbed paw with his pen still in it and counting off on his claws.

"The four basics, whenever you mention a new person or thing, let's say you say 'Oh Doc, I just met X.' then my next four questions are 'tell me about X' followed by 'are you sexually attracted to slash sexually intimidated by X' then 'do you harbour feelings of guilt about x' and then finally 'considering the above, how does X make you feel about yourself?' And that's it really. That's about ninety-percent of my job. People think that their psychological problems are unique, that they're tortured and interesting, unique snowflakes, frozen fractals all around, and ninety percent of the time, they're really _really_ not. They're just frightened and frustrated and scared, living here in the big city, and they need someone to unload at. And those four questions help me find what it is they really need to unload _about_ , prod them to find what it is that's really eating them, so they can unload fully at me and feel better. This is basically a mental laxative. It's like going to confessional, except that the goal is to decrease and not increase the supplicant's levels of stress and guilt: the vast bulk of the experience is just window-dressing to put the patent in the right frame of mind to fix their own problems. The couch is just a prop, like the confessional. It's a ritual: you just provide what people expect to see. It's horrible to say, but most mammals' problems, even ones that drive them to the brink, are usually pretty mundane. I mean, I'm not even taking notes. I was making up a shopping list, but my pen ran out three patents ago. See?" he said, showing Nick his blank notepad, half covered by the weird incised lines an empty ballpoint made, describing a series of fairly abstract doodles, which Nick noticed included a cartoon version of him, on the couch. It was in scribbly, storyboard style, but still quite well done.

"Yeah, I noticed. I've faked notetaking enough myself: I can hear the difference between writing and doodles. Aww shoot: I should have put that down on my police application form under unique skills. Is the radio for my benefit too?" Asked Nick, nodding to the modest digital set in the corner by the window.

 **Radio is playing Bearnaked ladies:** _Brian Wilson_

"K-topia's all 90's marathon. You tuned it to music someone of my age group would associate with their childhood and teenaged years when I walked in. I take it that's an attempt to get me to lower my defences Doc?" said Nick.

"Uh-huh. Yes, that's intentional. When I get millennials in I play early 2000's indie, boomers I play the Rodent Stones. Well spotted. Can I borrow your pen? I feel naked without a prop in hand." Said the psychiatrist.

Nick clutched at the carrot-pen his breast-pocket, suddenly remembering it was there, and checking that it hadn't got soaked by the latte. He blew a sigh of relief: It was okay.

"No. Sorry it's just…. It's just that this pen, this pen right here? This pen is mine. No offence, but it's special to me."

"Uh-huh? Okay, that's fine. We all have things that are special to us. Did Judy give it to you?"

"Oh, what? Just because it's a carrot-shaped pen, it has to be a gift from a Bunny, is that what you're saying?"

"Well, it is a little unusual..."

"Doctor, sometimes a carrot is just a carrot. Don't read into it too much." Said Nick, fishing a blubbery out of his pocket and tossing it into his mouth with forced casualness as he tried to change the subject.

The platypus gave him a look over the top of his glasses, with a slight knowing smile.

Nick sighed, and slumped back down on the couch.

"Yes. Judy gave me the pen. You know you're pretty good, for a monotreme."

"Thank you. We tend to be perceptive. And we're also the only mammals that could make our own custard, a unique skill I doubt the police would care about. So, going back to the question: are you sexually attracted to Judy?"

"You _do_ know she's a different species from me? Right Doc? And I mean, not just a different species of Fox or something, or like when you see two big cats together and think 'Oh well, they're a cute couple.' We're not even the same genus. A predator-prey pairing? That's, that's still kinda taboo."

The doctor smiled. "In Zootopia, Anyone can be anything. Besides, I'm a shrink in the heart of the big city: I've heard it all before. Seriously, I mean it: one of my regular patients is attracted to cereal box mascots. And not even the cool or sexy ones, he wants the Quaker Oats Donkey."

"Seriously? Well, at least he'll have good cholesterol. Is Judy attractive? Yes, of course she is: she's smart and funny and good natured and caring and cute and strong emotionaly and she's got legs from here to…" Nick realised he was making a 1940's-cartoon-esque hourglass hips gesture with his paws, and promptly folded them over his tie in minor embarrassment. "If she were a fox, or I were a Rabbit… who knows. Is she attractive? Yes. Of course. Do I care about her: yes, of course, she's my best friend in the world. Do I have feelings for her? Yes, I do: but after all that we've been through together, that's perfectly natural."

The platypus stopped pretending to write, and gestured with his pen "You do realise that you didn't answer the question, right?"

Nick looked panicked. "Yes I did!"

"No, no you answered the question with another question and then answered _that_ question." Said the doctor, bobbing his pen up and down each time to accentuate the word _question._ "Four times. I didn't ask you if she _was_ attractive. I asked if _you_ were sexually attracted to _her._ "

"Huh. That question thing usually works. Tell me doctor, do you get a lot of politicians in here?"

"Yeah, but I just keep telling the varmints to jump." He paused, and looked up from his not-writing. "That's a joke, you'll understand. I _am_ a doctor, first do no harm. And besides: after all the failed suicidals I've seen over the years, I'd probably recommend a combination of sleeping pills and a bag over the head: it's not as 100% effective as jumping, anything over twenty meters is pretty much guaranteed to do the job, but it is a lot less stressful for witnesses and far easier to clean up."

"Wow. You're a piece of work Doc, do you know that?"

The psychiatrist shrugged. "True, I don't normally treat my patents like this, it spooks them, but when someone pays for counselling without saying what it's about and then comes in and says that he needs therapy to give up a life of crime to become a cop? Well, that's not something you hear every day, even from the land of cereal-monogamists. I think we can both afford to be a little more candid than usual. I've found that approach works best with those patents of mine who happen to be unelected criminals."

"Yeah, I guess it's less usual than the traditional route of starting out as a cop and then going criminal. Well, I'm a candid canid, sure enough. No worries on that count. You… you see a lot of crims coming through here then Doc?"

The platypus shrugged. "I do some work for the corrections department, psychological assessments and so forth. Out here at liberty? Not many. I do have that one assassin who needed coaching through his high-school reunion, but not so much since that."

"Huh. You know, I think I saw a film like that once."

"Everyone has. So, Judy?"

Nick glanced at the clock in the corner as he swung his legs off the couch and sat up, one paw casually in his hip as he gestured with the other. "Ohhhh, well, shucks will you look at that? Where did the time go? Oh well Doc, tempus fungit, time makes fools of us all, tides wait for no mammal…"

The shrink looked up. "You've still got five minutes." He said, calmly.

Nick got up, swinging both paws casually behind his back and then back forward to make an unrealistically enthusiastic double fist-pumping gesture every few seconds as he backed out of the room, tail swishing.

"Woah, I thought the stereotype about the clock-watching shrink was an old joke! Ha, no seriously Doc, I did arrive a little early, and I'm only paid up for an hour, so you know, don't want to overstay my welcome. I'll tell you what?" he smacked his forehead and smiled enthusiastically as he walked out. "Crazy idea, the commute for me is so much better if I arrive and then leave five minutes before the hour, not on it. That would be good for me next week, is that good for you?"

The platypus shrugged. "That's fine by me, mister Maulwurf. We can talk about Judy next session. And about your parents-"

"Ohh, would you look at the time, I gotta run. This has been _swell_. Just _swell_ buuut…" made Nick, checking the time on his phone and making the stretched vowel sound that indicated a pressing hurry. The platypus snorted, and leaned in towards the intercom.

"You can't avoid the issue forever Nick, sooner or later, you're going to have to talk about your feelings. Here I'll get Carrol to buzz you out-"

"NO!" said Nick, raising both paws, and then realizing that that had come across a little strong. "Ahah, no I mean, it's a simple enough set up, I survived this city since I was twelve and had a government conspiracy try to kill me last month: I think I can find me way back to the _lobby_ on my own. No need to bother your secretary: I'll make my own way out. See you next week Doc!" he said, standing half-way out of the door and poking a head around it and saluting, half-mockingly. "I'd have to be crazy to miss it!"

The door swung shut.

The physiatrist sighed. "Well, he's going to be a difficult one, I can tell." He said, checking the clock. He had an extra five minutes now.

He flicked the aviator shades out of his pocket, and pulled the sun-tanning mirror out from under the couch and lay back, cracking open a stubby.

"Give me the crazy ones any-day. It's the smart ones always make trouble."

* * *

Nick closed the door quietly behind him, and pressed an ear to it to check the shrink wasn't about to burst through. He breathed a sigh of relief, and then moved speedily and stealthily to the secretary's desk and sat at the empty chair behind it just in the nick of time.

The psychiatrists office had clearly been fitted into an oddly-shaped spare space in the office block, with one good-sized room that the shrink used, and a weird L shaped room/corridor leading up to it that was of no particular use and had been converted into a waiting room/reception area. Because of its shape, you'd need to crane your head right around the corner and peek through a bead curtain to see if anyone was actually manning the desk from the waiting area, and it was for exactly this reason that Nick had chosen this particular therapist's to attend. That and he'd found a brochure for it at his usual pawsicle selling spot and was too lazy to shop around.

The Mole in the waiting area leaned in and poked through the curtain squinting suspiciously. Nick stopped pretending to file his claws, and sat up straight behind the desk looking bright and attentive.

"I'm so sorry Mister Maulwurf," he said. "But I'm afraid the doctor _still_ isn't ready to see you."

The mole frowned, annoyed. "But I'm missing my first session, I paid for an Hour, and it's nearly all gone! I mean I block booked, ten one-hour sittings, like in the brochure!"

"And I can grantee you, that ever single hour of those will be used." Nick said, standing up and laying a re-assuring arm around the mole's shoulders. "It's just that the doctor has had one of his more… More _Unstable_ patents re-lapse, and needs to be with him urgently."

"But what could be so important that-"

"Mob hitman. Top Assassin, nervous breakdown and now he needs coaching through his High-school reunion. I'm not supposed to say anything, doctor-patient confidentiality, but if you step through that door and reveal that mammal's identity, why, you could be the target of a mob hit. And then I'd feel just _awful."_

"Really. Gosh, you know, I think I saw a film like that once…"

"Everyone has." said Nick. The mole nodded.

"So If I need to contact you again about an appointment Mister… " started the mole He looked down at the name tag on the desk. It said Carol.

"Carlos. My name is Carlos, and here's my card, mister Maulwurf, and if you ever need anything, sir, anything at all, you can just call that number at _any_ time." Said Nick, producing a random Business card from the collection he kept in his back pocket and handing it over like a magician, pinched between first and second finger, smiling _:_ he made it a point to grab a few whenever he got the opportunity, because business cards were an invaluable prop for running short-cons. Most of the time, people never even read them: they let you be whoever you wanted to be _"_ Tell you what, mister Maulwurf you just turn up again this time tomorrow and if it happens again, then I'm sure that it would be possible to get you two free sessions for each one that you've missed."

"Really?" asked Maulwurf

"Like I said, I'm sure it's possible. And if it wasn't why, that would be just criminal. Okay, out the door now, see you tomorrow. Bye, bye bye… bye." Nick said, shutting the door gently but firmly behind the mole. He then ran back to the desk, and got a packed-lunch out from under it. It was already half eaten. He carefully inserted a lettuce leaf from his salad onto the front of his shirt, and then waited, plastic spork in hand.

He was convincingly pretending to eat when the outer door opened a second latter, and a young female southern grey wolf in a conservative suit-skirt combo slipped in holding a BugBurger lunch Burrito.

She smiled at him, a tad guiltily.

"Hi Nick, and again, thanks for covering for me."

Nick spread his arms wide and smiled beneficently. "Hey now Carol, it's like I said, I'm just over in the next office, and we're not allowed to eat at our work stations or bring our own food, have to buy from the cafeteria, some company-store type deal. I was glad for the chance to sneak out for an hour. How's the kid?"

The secretary smiled, sheepishly. "As good as gold. Don't get me wrong." she said, holding out a claw. "The doctor is a really great guy to work for, got me signed into the day-care for free… it's just I hardly ever get to see my kid, and he's right over the street. Oh, thank you Nick, you can't know how much it means to me to just sneak out and see him for an hour…."

"Hey, hey? Are those tears? Do I see tears? Here let me get that…" said Nick, reaching for the kerchief in his breast pocket, next to the lettuce leaf. "Big bad wolf crying all over the place…" he said, and she noticed the leaf and burst out laughing.

"Ahhh! You've got a little something there Nick!"

He looked down. "Oh well what do you know? Guess I was saving that one for later." He said, before laughing at his own misfortune, establishing himself as a harmless goof.

"Aww, bless, Did you have any trouble with mister Maulwurf? It's his first session."

"Him? Good as gold. No problem. One happy customer."

"Oh thank goodness. Now how can I thank you?" said Carol reaching for her purse. "At least let me buy you lunch… BugBurger okay? Or ZFC perhaps…"

Nick held up his paws forestalling her, and gently steered her money back into her purse.

"No, no. Firstly, I don't eat meat, fish sometimes, but that's it, and secondly Carol I can't take your money. I… I know what it's like for a single mom in this city. Heck, I should be buying _you_ lunch. Trust me, no." Nick hesitated, and then his face light up as if he'd just had a great idea. "I'm a genius. I know Carrol, I'll tell you what, I've just had the best idea ever: why don't we make this a regular thing? Do this every lunchtime: I can sneak in here to eat my home-cooked lunch, and you can take an hour off to see your son. Say, from ten-to-one until two? I mean, it's clearly a weight off your mind, I don't mind playing secretary for one hour, and I'm in the office right next door anyway…"

"Oh, thank you! You can't imagine what this means to me! Now you do that, and I'll just have to have you for lunch to pay you back. Although not salad: I've never been ashamed of being a predator, and you shouldn't either."

"Hey now, well, maybe someday, but seriously, I would be remiss in my duties as a good citizen if I didn't help you and your kid out here!"

"Oh, wow, that's so kind. Remiss… You're just… just a real articulate fella!"

"Heh. You know ma'am? I get that all the time…"

Two minuets later Nick was in the elevator on his way down to the lobby when his phone rang.

After a glance at the caller ID he smiled and swiped to answer.

"Hey, Carrots. How'd your un-resignation from the force go? Not had it yet? Okay, well, I'll drop over then for it: moral support. Never officially quit? Well yeah, _of course_ just throwing your badge on the desk doesn't cut it, dumb bunny, you still need to give two weeks' notice: it is still a job. So what are they counting your back-to-the-farm metal-breakdown moment as? You know: the one I predicted within thirty seconds of meeting you? Sympathetic leave? Well that must be promising: If Chief Buffalo-butt wasn't interested in having you back he'd have flagged that as unauthorised leave or something. The fact he's willing to meet with you at all has to be a good sign. Well yes, even if there is a standard procedure that when any cop who turns in their badge they get a grace period to change their minds, the fact that Bogo's treating it like that _has_ to be promising. I … look, listen to me Carrots, don't worry about it: you saved the entire city, well, with a little help from a certain handsome, dashing, genius underappreciated vulpine assistant, so even if he does throw the book at you, what's the worst that could happen? Well… well okay, yes, we did technically hijack a train and endanger hundreds of lives … uh huh… uh huh… yeah and the explosions…. Okay yeah oh wow, honestly, we broke _that_ many laws? Twenty years on the hustle and the first time I commit a class one felony it's working for a cop: figures. Mother was right; fast women will be the end of me. Okay, so I guess a lengthy prison sentence is _technically_ the worst that could happen but…. Hey, hey there now don't get all worked up about this: You becoming the stereotypical emotional bunny again helps no-one here; you don't even have my tail to stand on right now. Just stay calm, state your case clearly, and answer his questions with other questions. And I promise, Hopps, if the worst does happen, I'll bake you a carrot cake with a file in it. Deal? Attagirl. My day? Oh, nothing much. Saw that shrink like I promised. Nice guy, for, you know, a platypus: frankly I just don't trust any mammal with a beak. Did you know they could make their own custard? Freaky. No, I don't know how, maybe out a sachet or something, I wasn't going to pry, that's his job, it would have seemed rude. Trouble? Judy. I'm a grown mammal. My word is my bond: when I say I'm going straight, then that's it, I'm going straight. No more hustles. Scout's honour." He said, walking out of the elevator to the left. His eyes went wide and he swiveled 180 degrees on a paw and shifted his phone to cover his face some more as he avoided Maulwurf and made for the other exit, and despite the change in body language his spoken voice didn't falter an iota.

"Honestly, Judy, I'm a changed mammal. I can, with complete 100% confidence say that I'm already feeling significantly less criminal. Hey, you're going to be late for your meeting Carrots. And remember, he's a cape buffalo: worst comes to the worst if you stand still enough, I'm about 80% sure he can't see you. Okay. Bye-bye. Kiss Bogo hi for me!" he said, walking out of the doors and onto the sidewalk

He looked at the phone. Judy had laughed, and then hung up. That was good, he guessed. He was more worried about her going back to the force than he wanted to show, and she was straight-up terrified: if it helped break the tension for her, then that was good.

He glanced the time on his phone, and groaned. He'd forgotten that now he had a real job, he had to keep to a schedule. He glanced at the street, once. He knew the city like the back of his paw: an hour by subway, forty-five by L-train. He needed a taxi. He scanned the cabs at the busy taxi rank at the end of the block, watching the drivers. All prey animals. Chances of them stopping to pick up a shifty looking fox in this neighbourhood? Practically zero. He shrugged, and walked past. Something would come up. Something always did.

This was Zootopia: and anyone could be anything. Including on time.

He loitered by the cab rank outside a department store playing on his phone, thank god for the smart phone revolution, it made this look so much less suspicious, and within a minute a shopper severely overburdened with bags came along and struggled to hail a taxi. A lioness. He moved into action; she met the bill: too many bags, stressed, female, and a larger pred than he was so she'd not feel threatened by him and get defensive.

"Here let me get that for you Ma'am." he said, flagging down the car for her, and opening the door and helping her in: no one would stop a taxi for a fox, but generations of door-mammals and busboys had given taxi drivers in the city an instinct for stopping whenever some tried to help a lady shopper into a cab.

"Oh, why thank you. Sahara square, and step on it!" she said. The taxi pulled smoothly away. He waved as it went. "Have a nice day!" he said, already looking around. He was going downtown, which meant that the species of passenger wasn't a good indicator: if he wanted to go to tundra town, for example, he'd single out polar bears. Downtown was too mixed for that to work.

After seven minutes and his fifth taxi, he struck gold.

"Oh, why thank you. Baobab and central, please driver." Said a leopard, as he helped her with her bags. Nick made a surprised little noise, and leaned on the open door of the cab with one arm, the other cocked causally by his hip.

"Well, isn't this the weirdest coincidence, that is _exactly_ the same part of town I was heading to. Hey, sorry you don't mind if I…" he made a rapid back and forth gesture between the cab and his chest with his fingers "I mean, if we split the fare?"

The leopard looked him up and down once, without fear, and clearly assessed he was no danger to her. And far more importantly unlike a male, she was unlikely to be a danger to _him._ He only played this with male marks if he was desperate: too easy to wake up in a ditch beaten black and blue and minus wallet phone and pants, although he suspected that last incident was more to do with annoying Mr Big than anything else.

She shrugged. "Sure, why not?" And shifted over her shopping off the back seat to make room for him, while putting in her earphones to indicate that, mercifully, they didn't have to talk and so proper city etiquette could be maintained.

Nick nodded, and sidled into the cab. He'd be there on time, and for half the cost.

Ten stories above them the psychiatrist's radio was still paying the K-tiopia all 90's playlist.

 **Alien ant farm:** _Smooth criminal._

 **Case one: a Class act.**

 **Part one: retail therapy**

 **Frosted glass Door slams, music abruptly stops, close up on door: office of chief Bogo. Silhouette of rabbit and buffalo visible through glass. Ticking clock.**

Officer Judy Hopps sat in front of the desk trying not to shuffle nervously as chief Bogo flicked through the file, one page at a time, painfully slowly. He hadn't said anything for… she checked the clock in the corner of the room… six minutes. Six minutes of compete silence as he just flicked through page after page of complaints, reports, and photos of the _Nighthowler_ incident.

A disproportionate number of them either seemed to be of the wrecked train, or exerts from the DA's initial report. Someone, Bogo she suspected, had underlined the phrases "Threat to the public" "reckless endangerment" and "breach of procedure" with a pink highlighter each time they appeared. On some pages there was almost more pink than white.

 _Flick. Flick. Flick._ She tried not to flinch as each page was turned. Her tail had gone numb with sitting there. She envied it: she didn't want to feel this either. _Flick. Flick. Flick…_

Bogo sighed, and took off his reading glasses

"Officer Hopps: I understand that without your actions the city would have indeed have fallen into a dire peril: held at the whim of a maniac determined to tear us apart, and willing to turn innocent predators into killers, and their victims into unwilling martyrs for her cause. And given how _incredibly_ close you came to ending up as one of those victims, I can only commend both your dedication and bravery. The city owes you and Mr Wilde a debt of thanks."

Judy blinked, twice. "Thank you sir." She said, crisply and automatically, nose twitching. She was still sitting bolt-upright, in her dress blues, cap under her arm. It never hurt to give a good impression during a dressing down, and despite the praise, she wasn't _quite_ so naive as to think that wasn't what this was: she was here to get chewed out, and they both knew it.

 _Nothing anyone says before the word 'but' really counts._ Nick had said to her yesterday. _As in, 'I'm not prejudiced but…' Doubly so if they use the words 'that said.' That's when you know you're in the deep doo-doo, Carrots._

"That said." Said Chief Bogo, "There are certain issues I've been asked to raise by the proper authorities, namely regarding the legality of your actions in the time leading up to the arrest of assistant mayor Bellwether."

"I understand Sir." she said, swallowing nervously. "Do… will in need my union rep present for this, sir?"

Bogo gave her a long, slow look, but didn't answer.

"I've read through your own account of the events of the _Nighthowler_ incident, and while your report is as frank and professional as I would have hoped for from a Valedictorian academy graduate and officer of your calibre, there are still, by your own admission, serious procedural problems. And that's not even taking into account the other reports circulating…"

"Other reports sir?" said Judy, her ears drooping and nose twitching nervously.

"Yes, officer Hopps, our _other_ reports. The crime scene investigators, the witness statements from the train-track, assistant mayor Bellwether's defence statement, the arrested ram officers defence statements… Mr Wilde's statement…. and that's just the official reports. We have citizens filming the train chase on their phones, the usual rumour mills, trending hashtags _and_ a number of complaints made on social media, mostly from a certain Duke Weselton."

"I believe it's pronounced Weasel-ton, sir."

"Did I give the impression that I cared, Hopps? No! Officer Hopps, your honesty is commendable, but on your own report , by your own admission, you list enough procedural problems to give the DA, the mayor's office, or at least what's left of it, _and_ internal affairs the headache of the century!" he leaned back, and put his glasses back on and opened the file.

"Collating all the various report, and, for simplicity's sakes ignoring the procedural issues you could legitimately be _fired_ over and the city misdemeanours in order to focus just on the felony charges… let's see…"

Judy shifted nervously. "Sir I-"

"Tiny mouth _shut_ officer Hopps. Now where was I? Oh yes: August 29th last, felony blackmail of one Nicholas Wilde, where you cornered and confronted him and used your position as an officer of the law to force him to work for you, without proper pay or compensation. True?"

"Well, sir he was my only lead on the Otterton case and-"

"Also August 29th, withholding information of a felony offence: failing to report N. Wilde's felony tax evasion. True or false Hopps?"

"True sir but I-"

"August 29th through 31st: reckless endangerment of N. Wilde: that you did with reckless abaddon place an untrained civilian, Nicholas Wilde, into a situation likely to endanger his life, safety or liberty no less than three times even when it was not strictly necessary for the case; at Tundra Limos, Tujunga Sky-tram station and Cliffside asylum, and that you failed to provide him with a weapon or body-armour to defend himself, and that you intentionally brought him into contact with a person of interest; one mister Renato Manchas, without first assessing the individual and area to determine if it was safe and suitable for a civilian. True?"

"Sir, he was a witness not a suspect, we had no reason to suspect that mister Manchas would pose a threat."

"Oh, you had no reason to suspect that the _mob boss's driver_ who was a predator _twice the combined weight of you and Wilde_ could pose a threat? Tell me, officer Hopps, what _exactly_ was preventing you from leaving Nick in the car while you checked out the Manchas property to make sure it was safe?"

"Nothing, sir."

"And yet you didn't, did you?"

"No, Sir."

"And given you were armed with nothing more deadly than a parking-ticket dispenser, what was preventing you from calling for armed backup _before_ approaching the property?"

"Nothing, sir."

"And yet you didn't, did you Officer?"

"No, Sir." said Judy, heart in throat and butterflies in stomach. She didn't what to think about how she would have felt if Nick had got hurt.

"No, sir, you didn't." Bogo said, mockingly. "And frankly, you got lucky that in this jurisdiction you only need the permission of _one_ of the participants in a conversation to record it, because it's only the fact you were technically a participant in the events that makes your recordings of Lionheart and Bellwether admissible in a court of law, and even then we had the devil's own work getting your video of Lionheart into court because unlike Bellwether he didn't know you were there and wasn't cocky enough to call the police himself!"

"Sir, I realise that I may have-"

"No. no no no, Hopps, you don't get to talk right now, miss. So, moving away from those 48 hours… you managed to nearly start a race riot with your first press conference, put in two months of, and I will admit to this, sterling service as the situation between predator and prey deteriorated, and then, just as things hit their lowest ebb, you did the one thing I can't forgive: you quit."

He signed, and leaned back. "So there it is: your decision to re-unite with Nick? To take the case? Exactly _what_ was you legal justification for doing that, Miss Hopps? Because unless you've forgotten, at the time you were running around _getting mobsters to threaten witnesses_ for you, laying you open to charges of the attempted murder of Duke Weaselton and selective enforcement, where exactly was your badge, officer? When you chose to violate the Homeland Security act by committing trespass on the railways and hijacking a city train full of propane cylinders and dangerous volatile psychotropic toxins and driving it through mid-town in rush-hour, where was your badge? And when you managed to put Nick's life on the line for the _fourth_ time in the museum, was your badge on your chest where it belonged, Hopps? No, officer, no it wasn't. It was right here, in my desk draw." He said opening his draw dramatically and pointing, sending an angry snort out his nostrils as he did.

"Hi, I'm Gazelle. Wow, You are one hot dancer… CHIEF… BOGO…" said a synthesised voice from the desk draw as he opened it up. His eyes widened and his face showed a half-second of horrified embarrassment, but he didn't break eye contact with her as he slammed the draw shut again and his baseline controlled anger re-asserted itself.

"Blackmail, withholding information, reckless endangerment, attempted murder, selective enforcement, and domestic terrorism... hardly what I thought I'd be getting when I assigned you parking duty, officer Hopps."

Judy sat bolt upright, cap under arm and properly at attention with her head held high as her ears drooped and the tears rolled openly down her face.

"No Sir. But look on the bright side." She said, voice breaking as she sniffed and snorted, nose twitching. "At least I got those two-hundred tickets written up." She said, unpinning the badge from her breast pocket and looking at it sadly. For as long as she could remember, this was all she had wanted. She laid it down on the desktop where it made a sad little _plink._

She then slipped of the chair, dropping the distance to the ground that was a little more than her own height, marched over to the door, and gave a proper parade-ground about-turn and a saluted crisply.

"I'll, I'll turn myself over to the custody sergeant immediately, sir. Clawhauser can fill out the charge sheets. I'll plead guilty, save the city some trouble, sir, on the condition that I'm not asked to testify against Nick he… like you said, I forced him into this, he doesn't deserve any of this. It…. It has been an honour to serve with you sir." She griped the door handle, cap under the other arm. "However briefly, Chief Bogo. I'm sorry to have failed the ZPD. Thank you for the opportunity."

She was halfway out of the door when she heard him call out.

"Hopps, did I at any point say that the charges against you included littering?"

"Littering?" She asked thickly, turning and rubbing tears from her whiskers.

"Littering Hopps." He said, peering over at her. "What is this on my desk?" he asked, pointing to her badge with his pen. "Kindly do not leave you possessions cluttering up my office, Hopps. I don't permit that from officers in my precinct. Pick up that badge, and put it back where it belongs: on your chest."

Judy sniffed, looking from badge to buffalo rapidly "Sir?" she asked.

"Your badge, Hopps. Put it on, and close the door before I catch a cold. Did I give you permission to excuse yourself, officer?" he asked, not unkindly. He pointed to the chair. "Sit." He said, gruffly.

Judy rubbed some tears off her cheek with her paw, and walked back to the chair and hopped up.

"I do not forgive Quitters, Hopps… but at least you quit for the right reasons, and when it got tough, you came back when you could have sat it out safely in Podonk , so that's an end of it."

"Bunnyburrow, sir."

"I'm talking Hopps!"

"Sorry sir. But… the charges? If I've broken the law, then I should go to jail."

Bogo snorted, and leaned back, one arm draped over the back of his chair as he gestured with his glasses using the other. "What sort of hit rate do you think we get Hopps? Let's face it, the vast majority of times mammals' break the law, they walk. No Hopps, you don't get out that easily: you've been dumb enough to show me you've got potential, and I'm damn well going to get the best of it before I let you slip away officer. Don't let it go to your head, and don't break the world again on my watch. Got it?"

"Sorry, sir: I heard it was already broken. But sir, I don't understand-"

"Less of that sass, Hopps. So you don't understand? Well, let me spell it out for you: the DA and Homeland Security are desperately trying to hold the city together in the wake of race riots and both the mayor and assistant mayor being arrested. The last thing they need is to let the public know just how close we came to Bellwether wining. Your chase thorough the city with the train? Classified. Something about a giant mobile bomb filled with a drug that turns mammals savage driving through the city's most populated area at rush hour didn't poll well with focus groups and was seen as potentially distressing to the public, so if anyone asks, it never happened: A training exercise, part of our anti-terrorist contingency planning, and any explosions heard by the public were part of a simulation. Understood Hopps?"

"But sir, even so, the other charges-"

"Do you _want_ to go to jail? No? Good. That's what I thought. No: Duke Weaselton may have made certain allegations about being threatened by a mobster named Mister Big in your presence and under your supervision on social media, but there is no evidence that it ever occurred and there _won't be_ will there Hopps? This is something that just does NOT happen on my force, Hopps, understood? And yes, we are always happy to hear any information about potential abuse by officers. But it appears that while Weaselton may indeed have information that could put you away for the rest of your natural life, he also has outstanding warrants after skipping bail for the florist robbery, and while he's only looking at two years, he clearly values two years of his own time far more than he does sabotaging your career, so he's made no official complaint. Gone to ground, and likely to stay there."

Chief Bogo steepled his fingers and then looked over them.

"So, that brings us to Mister Wilde. I gather you are still in contact with him. Do you believe he's likely to press charges?"

Judy laughed involuntarily, sobbing with relief. "No Sir! No I do not!"

"Harrumph. Shows what you know. Never trust a fox, Hopps. I have a formal statement from Mister Wilde here, taken only last week. When asked if he wanted to prefer charges he answered, and I'm quoting here 'Why yes officer, of course. Absolutely. 100%. I want to pursue all charges against officer Hopps.…'"

Judy's breath froze in her throat. _No, Nick, surely not. I know I deserve it, I know I said you had permission to hate me but still… oh Nick…_

"… In forty-eight hours.' When asked forty eight hours from _when_ he answered 'Forty-eight hours from whenever the statute of limitations expires.' He also added, and again I'm quoting here so I hope this means something to you because it's nothing to me ' _Good hustle Carrots._ '" Bogo shrugged and put the paper down.

"So that's it. You will not be facing any criminal charges because no one involved is interested in perusing them, and given that the extreme circumstances of events gave you good cause to… To bend some procedural guidelines, and that you were on compassionate leave at the time, I feel that we can draw a line under the matter and return you to active duty…"

"Oh thank you sir!"

"...as soon as the selective enforcement issue is dealt with." He gave her a long, cool stare. "You are a beat cop with three months on the force, Hopps, one third of that spent moping on some Podonk carrot farm. You do not have permission to work undercover or high-risk work without my say so. You do not have permission to pick and choose assignments. You do not have permission to dragoon con-artists and mobsters in to do your dirty work. You find a mobster or someone with unpaid taxes, you arrest them. Understood? You don't get to pick and choose the laws you enforce or the battles you fight, Am I clear, Hopps? There is no room for selective enforcement in my force."

"No sir."

"And you are not and have never in any financial arrangement with Mister Big? Not otherwise in his debt?"

"No sir."

"And Mister Wilde, his tax affairs are now in order?"

"Yes sir. He is now a fully contributing member of society… fiscally at least."

"I bet he loved that."

"He was… he was happy to put the past behind him sir."

 ***flashback cut. Nick on a park bench, clutching tax-form to his chest and weeping openly as Judy tries to comfort him.***

"Oh god, Judy. It… it's so much! My money! Call Bellwether, call Mr Big, Call Manchas! At least if I die I can claim the life insurance and afford a nice funeral Carrots!"

"There there Nick, everyone feels like that after tax. I mean they only took…. Oh jeaz, they took _that much?_ Look on the bright side, if they had applied full punitive measures for late payment, it would be far worse. Do... do you need a hug?"

"Yes. And a Blueberry-spice latte."

"Nick, I'm not going all the way to the coffee shop for you."

"Hey, I pay your wages now!"

 **End flashback**

Bogo snorted. "How did you even get his tax record anyway? You'd need a subpoena or someone with access to… ahh. Bellwether?"

"Bellwether, sir."

"Hrumph. Don't go over my horns again, Hopps. Particularly not to closet sociopaths. And if I ever see selective enforcement on my force, I have to come down hard. You understand?"

"Yes sir." said, realising that he was about to throw the book at her for selective enforcement.

After a few minutes of sitting there filling out routine paperwork, he looked up at her over his reading glasses. "Are you still here Hopps?"

"Yes sir, you… you haven't said what you were going to do about my selective enforcement charge."

"Oh. Fair enough: I'm doing nothing. I'm choosing not to enforce it: exercising my discretion. Call Clawhauser over on your way out, will you?"

Judy paused for a second, and then got off the chair, saluted, and walked to the door.

At the door she paused.

"Sir… they never covered this at the academy, so forgive me if I get this wrong, but what exactly is the difference between _selective enforcement_ and _discretion_ sir?"

Bogo paused in his writing, but did not look up. "How many major cases have you worked in your career, Hopps? Not counting parking and that citywide mess after your press conference?"

"Counting the florist robbery, Otterton case and Night-howler bust as separate cases? Three, sir."

"Three. Hopps, there have been…" he checked his computer screen. "Two-thousand and twelve nine-one-one calls in the Zootopia central area today, and it's not even past lunch. I have officers to deal with about half of them within our recommend responsive times, half of the rest in two hours, and two-thirds of the remainder over the next twenty four hours. Most of the calls we get are minor, but even so, there comes a point where have to prioritize which cases we pursue, which we paw of onto other precincts or turn over to county, and which we let drop. You as a beat cop can be reasonably expected to deal with all crime in front of you, and if for any reason it's too much, you call for back up and pass it up the foodchain for someone else to fix, and they do the same. It's only when you get to the top of the foodchain and you run out other people to pass it up too that you have to decide what to dedicate the department's limited resources to, and given we can barely afford to police the campaigning for the emergency election of a new mayor, booking you is far more trouble than it's worth. The difference between selective enforcement and discretion?" he jerked a thumb towards the stars on his collar.

"You're looking at him. Dismissed, Hopps. Get out of your dress blues and report to Drill Sergeant Furschia for physical assessment, I want to know that that leg wound and a month munching carrots in the sticks hasn't blunted your edge. _CLAWHAUSER! WHERE ON EARTH ARE THIS WEEK'S CRIME FIGURES?!"_

 _"-no, seriously, greatest singer of our time and personal inspiration to me…Coming sir!"_

" _BEFORE OUR PENSIONS KICK IN, CLAWHAUSER._ Oh and Hopps…"

She turned.

Bogo was holding up a ZPD application form. "Really? I am not known for my sense of humour. He may have been a help during the _Nighthowler_ case, but a leopard does not change his spots. Well, except for Clawud from Traffic, and that turned out to be melanoma. A fox on the force?"

"I know, sir. That would be almost as ridiculous as a bunny with a badge."

He snorted, and perhaps there was a very small smile under that.

"Go, Hopps. Oh, and stop by the bullpen on the way to the locker room: Apparently there's carrot cake. Some sort of 'welcome back hero' party for someone or other. Not that I care. I take it Wilde actually _has_ some sort of legitimate job? I don't want to have to arrest anyone at their preliminary academy interview, that would be embarrassing for everyone involved."

"No, sir. He's… He is adapting well to honest work. I think it suits him."

* * *

Nick stared straight ahead, trying to ignore his apron and stupid uniform baseball cap.

"Welcome to Buy N' large, home of the best deals in Zootopia. Can I pack your bags for you Ma'am?"

The marmot looked at him suspiciously, and subconsciously clutched her purse a little closer when she realized the mammal serving her was a fox. He smiled, and even the people who knew him best wouldn't have been able to see anything but genuine happiness in that smile. In defence of the citizens of zootopia, most seemed to barely even notice his species as he worked, but for each nine that didn't, you got that one in ten who just had to give you the suspicious look, or who as soon as you packed the bags, re-packed them themselves to check you hadn't swiped anything, or who carried fox repellent in their purse like this little charmer: he couldn't see it, but he could smell it and the way she grabbed her purse was a distinct tell. At least most of the openly bigoted ones seemed old, although he wasn't sure if that meant the younger generation was less prejudiced, or that they just hadn't looked up from their phones for long enough to notice him.

He tried to ignore her and just focus on packing the bags, and on ignoring the awful musak versions of pop classics that were slowly and inexorably working his way into his soul.

 ** _Bearnaked ladies:_** _never is enough._

As he bagged her groceries, he realised that perhaps he was judging her a little harshly: Bellwether had known her trade well, and even nearly a month after her arrest, he'd noticed everyone seemed a little more cautious around Preds, resulting in a particular little dance on public transport where smaller Prey animals wouldn't sit next to him until they realised that the only other seats on the train were the ones left empty for exactly the same reason and they suddenly had to run some sort of mental sorting algorithm to work out exactly who they were least afraid off and finally vote by eventually parking their keister next to him to avoid the tigers, or electing to stand, and he still wasn't sure if he found it depressing, hilarious or both. Say what you liked about Bellwether, and he did, often, she knew how to work a crowd, and Nick guessed it would take quite some time before sales of Fox repellent and Bear-be-gone dropped, he thought, scanning them through the till.

He held up the jumbo-sized canister of fox repellent the lady was buying and smiled with genuine enjoyment as the customer's eyes went wide and she realised she was buying fox repellent from a fox and now trapped in a socially awkward situation that she had no control over. Nick grinned: some times life was just good to you.

"Hi, you know that due to popular demand, we're offering a three-for-two on all species-specific self-defence products at the moment Ma'am? You've already got two, so you could get a third completely free." He said, a little louder than was strictly necessary. He noted that she seemed particularly embarrassed, and that the Cougar in the line behind her did a double-take at that and started glaring at her, disgusted.

"Umm, no, that's okay. Just those please."

"Oh, no ma'am. We at Buy n' Large are quite happy to help cater to your irrational fears in any way we can. So, could I interest you in our fine range of wolf, mustelid and cat deterrents? I mean, you're covered for foxes and bears, but frankly how well prepared do you feel against lion or cougar attacks?" he asked, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the cougar behind her start to grin and enjoy the show. "I mean, I'd hate to feel that we as a company weren't profiting from you insane prejudices as much as we could. Have you considered a big 'ole steel bear-trap? Or how about a nice shrew-taser? That way you could combine your love of being well prepared to fight off angry preds with the hilarity of picking on mammals considerably smaller than yourself? Do you have any neighbours that you particularly dislike? I'm sure we'll have something suitable."

"No." she hissed through clenched teeth holding her purse out in front of her like a shield and looking like she wished the earth would just open up and swallow her. "Just those please. That will be fine."

"Right you are Ma'am." He said, cheerfully dropping the bear-be-gone in the bag and then intentionally failing to find the barcode on the fox repellent so he had an excuse to handle it for as long as possible to draw out the customer's moment of suffering. He let the awkward silence drag for a good long time as he vaguely waved the thing over the scanner.

"It…. It's for my Aunt: she lives alone and scares easily. What with all the stuff on the news… I mean, obviously I would never buy something like that for _myself_ …." She started when it was getting agonising.

"Well, I'm very glad to hear it: it's not often I meet someone so open-minded and non-judgemental. Do you have a loyally-card ma'am? This is worth double points this week." He said. By now they were getting quite an audience.

She automatically opened her purse, like mammals did when you asked them for a card, and just like he'd smelt, there was a canister of fox repellent in there. She slammed the purse shut hurriedly.

"Must have left it at home!" she squawked. "Say… are you still doing that charity fundraiser, for those poor predators hit by that Nighthowler stuff?" she asked, ears reddening as she blushed under her fur. "I mean… anything to help…" She looked down: Nick had already got the donation box out and was holding it meaningfully under her nose. She slammed a twenty in with indecent haste. He smiled, making a point to show as many teeth as possible.

"Why thank you ma'am. Your kindness is an example to us all." He said.

She looked up and wiped her forehead, visibly blowing off relief. It was over.

Nick kept looking at her coolly in the eye from under his stupid uniform baseball cap for a long moment, and without breaking eye contact leaned over and grabbed the microphone on his station.

"Hey, Ashlin, can I get a price check on _Fox repellent_ for the Marmot in the knitwear at till six please? Is it still discounted if bought with another anti-predator product? I repeat, Price check on _Fox repellent_ please." He said, as literally every Pred in the store suddenly stopped and gave the customer the stink eye, and he was pleased to note that at least a third of the prey animals looked equally disgusted.

Perhaps the city was a little bit of a better place than he gave it credit for, he thought as the customer paid and fled and the cougar behind him leaned over and put a twenty in the charity jar without a word but with a slight nod of thanks. Zootopia, the place where anyone could be anything, and things got a little better every day…

" _WIIIIIIIIILDE!"_ Screamed a voice, and Nick nearly slipped up as he shot to attention so fast he tripped on his uniform apron strings. A tiny shrew had appeared from nowhere, and was glaring at him with a depth of rage he'd last seen in animals that had been dosed with Night-howler, only this was worse: this was his shift supervisor.

"Gah! Mr Wilkins I can explain!"

" _YOU ARE LATE FOR YOUR ONE MONTH ASSESSMENT WILDE! MANAGER'S OFFICE!_ _ **NOW!"**_

"Yessir! Right away!" he said.

 _"AND AFTER THAT, YOU CAN WRITE THAT CUSTOMER A WRITTEN APOLOGY: SHE HAS BEEN A LOYAL SHOPPER FOR A NUMBER OF YEARS AND IF SHE WANTS TO BUY A DAMMED FOX_ _ **PELT**_ _YOU WILL SERVE HER POLITELY AND WITHOUT SASS OR YOU CAN FIND ANOTHER JOB! I HAVE MY EYE ON YOU! IF YOUR ASSESSMENT RUNS LATE BECAUSE OF THIS, IT'S COMING OUT OF YOUR NEXT LUNCH BREAK WILDE! I'M WATCHING YOU, FOX, ALL THE TIME!"_

"Yes sir, I gathered that from your attempt to hide in my till on my first day and jump out and shout at me for forgetting to charge that orphan child the extra five cents for getting a re-usable bag, sir."

 _"NOW, WILDE!"_

"On it sir!" he said, backing away before the tiny little maniac could do anything else weird. He'd forgotten his assessment was today. Well, what was the worst that could happen?

 _Tick, tick, tick….._

Nick sat in the waiting room as the clock wound down: whoever was running the employee assessments was reinforcing their authority by making him wait even though he was the first member of staff being assessed, and he just tried to focus on how badly he needed a lawful job on his resume if he was going to make it through academy pre-selection: the money was awful and he hated it, but even though his pawsicle scam was technically just on the right side of the law, Judy made it clear that the academy recruitment process heavily favoured applicants who had experience sticking to shift patterns. Even with her perfect grades she had had to work through high-school and beyond just to prove to them that she was a good worker: a twenty year gap on his resume labelled 'don't ask' wasn't going to look good for him so he needed to show that he had what it took to stick it out at a crappy job.

That said, the cold, dead stare of the other workers waiting for their quarterly assessments was not reassuring. The elderly goat opposite him who seemed to be visibly drooping as he watched was particularly distressing. The goat noticed him starring, and nodded.

"First assessment?" asked the goat.

Nick nodded. "Any advice?" he asked.

The goat paused to consider this.

"Try to pretend you're somewhere else." Said the goat. "I try to imagine I'm back on the highschool football team… god, I was so happy then. Young, strong, had the ladies falling all over me… good times. Hard to imagine it was nearly six years ago."

Nick did a double take. "How old are you?"

"In normal years? Twenty three. In retail years, that's about a thousand."

Nick stared, horrified.

"Nick Wilde?" asked a voice, as the door to the manager's office opened.

Nick shook himself, and got up and went in, nudging his uniform cap back a little as he did so.

There were two seats behind the desk and one in front of it. One of the seats behind the desk was occupied by a young male porcupine in a bad suit, and the other presumably for the female tapir who had called him in. He automatically moved to the seat in front of the desk, and then picked it up and moved it to the short-edge of the desk so he was at the head of the table to the clear surprise of the porcupine. He gave a bright, winning smile, and moved over to the porcupine's side of the desk and made a point to shake his paw before he could say anything or get up from his seat: the fact he was standing as he shook his paw and the other guy was still sitting accentuated Nick's height advantage and instantly put the porcupine at a disadvantage. Combined with the re-positioning of the chair, he'd instantly robbed the interviewers of any psychological edge. "Nick Wilde, and so glad to make your acquaintance Mr?"

"Stachel, Harry Stachel." Said the porcupine, and Nick realised just how young the guy was. _He must be here for some sort of work-experience._ He thought, introducing himself to the Tapir who as it turned out was called Noor-Puteri-Rania and was from Mammalian Resources, via Bunga Raya in the rainforest district.

"So, are we waiting for anyone else?" asked Nick sitting down. "I heard that these interviews were being conducted by some big-shot from corporate."

The porcupine laughed. "Yes, that's me. We find a fresh pair of eyes, emotionally detached from the management of any individual store in out chain is best for these things, so cooperate sent me down." He said, getting out a pen and clicking it and drawing out a clipboard as Noor got out a myPad and begun to make notes on it.

Nick stared at the Porcupine.

"You're twelve." He said, flatly.

The porcupine laughed, a touch nervously. "Ahahaha… no. I'm seventeen."

"Oh. Because that is _really_ different from twelve. By a whole five." Said Nick, horrified. "Sorry, but I have sexual anxieties that are older than you. Does your mother know that you're out? Like, out of the _womb_."

The porcupine smiled, nervously.

"Ah, well you see Buy N' Large has its _Future Successes Program_ … I realise this will be difficult for you to understand seeing as you're just a shop-floor worker, but the company actively recruits promising individuals directly out of high-school in order to put them through our management program and then sends the most promising individuals from that program through something we call _collage_ … it's okay, I can have some explain the concept to you latter. Basically it's a way for the company to recruit and retain mammals that are actually _important_ to us as opposed to… well." He said, gesturing to Nick's apron and cap with one paw. "As opposed to shop. Noor, I think, what? A L27, D52 and a… oh, a S16?" he said. The tapir nodded, and started ticking boxes on an online form.

Nick paused, nonplussed.

"I'm sorry?"

The Porcupine smiled.

"Ah, well you see due to recent rulings of those inconvenient labour laws, we are no longer allowed to discuss important elements of your first-month or quarterly assessment behind your back, you have the right to hear what we are saying about you. But we find that phrases such as _unskilled labour, low value worker, dead-end job, mindless drone_ or comments about your personal habits, hygiene or appearance can be distressing to workers, so we comply with the letter of law by discussing you and your assessment with a nice little shorthand that prevents us from having any risk of upsetting you. If you need any help understanding the shorthand, you're welcome to look up those codes in the employees guidebook."

Nick smiled, and steepled his fingers. "And where _exactly_ is this book?"

The porcupine laughed, and rapped his knuckles on the desk they were sitting around producing a hollow, papery noise.

"Ahahaha… this isn't a table. So, Bob… do you mind if I call you Bob? What made you so keen to be a part of the Buy N' large family?"

"My name is Nick."

"Really? Oh. Sorry. So Nick, Nick Nick Nicky, tricky Nicky. Is that speciesist? Can we still call foxes tricky? Never mind. So, what exactly is your position in this company?"

"I'm a customer service assistant."

"U-huh? And what exactly does that entail?"

Nick stared. "You don't know what the various positions in the company are?"

"I'm in corporate, I don't need to. No, I need to focus on worker- incentivization and cost effectiveness: what you do doesn't matter, so long as you can be made to do it harder and cheaper. So, what is it you do?"

"I work at a till, and if customers have a loyalty card or an online account then I look up that customer's previous purchases with an App to suggest other products they might like based on previous purchases so I can upsell to them, so basically I'm in sales."

"Ohhh, actually, we only use the terms _in sales_ for mammals who have passed our _sales first initiative_ which is not applicable to shop staff, no, you see Bob, the term _sales_ implies that you have some agency in the outcome of events rather than being a purposeless, passive cog, and we find that making employees feel like they make any difference at all just raises their expectations to unmanageable levels. No, being _in sales_ would imply that you have some sort of skill level or acumen."

"I used to make 200 dollars a day selling pawsicles!"

"I'm sorry, I don't speak street, I don't know what _pawsicle_ is code for, although now that you mention it…. Noor, red flag, category D16. And D17, and D21 through 25. Anyway, Bob. What made you want to work for Buy N' large."

"Well, I'm trying to get into the police academy and I need a legitimate job to apply."

The porcupine laughed, a lot, and then froze up when he saw Nick's face.

"Oh god, you're serious? _You?_ Okay… how did that one go down? I mean, why do you think you'd be capable of anything like that?"

Nick glared. "I saved the city from assistant mayor Bellwether's anti-predator plot. I was on newsnight."

"Really. Sure okay, if you say so buddy… Noor, what's our code for _clearly delusional_ again? t19?"

"And on the late show."

"I don't watch TV, I stream what I want online. So tell me, why do you want to join the police?"

"Well, after I got roped into helping with a missing otter case by Judy, she's a police officer I met…"

Nick paused. The porcupine and the tapir were having a whispered conversation swapping these little shorthand codes with each other, and with his position on the edge of the table he could see that the little checklist on the myPad was colour-coded, from green smiley face to red sad face: almost all of his boxes appeared to be in either the red or dark amber category. The porcupine noticed he was glaring.

"Do go on Bob, we're listening. No I want to mark him down in category E7. And remember, we're not legally allowed to put his species down on this, so just put k9, and then in subcategory put f zero roman numeral ten and then a sad face."

"Well, after that I got kidnapped by mobsters, survived, attacked by a savage jaguar, survived, hijacked a train, gave and rescinded a victory toot-toot, survived, and broke a major conspiracy involving both the mayor and the assistant mayor, during which Judy convinced me that I was a better person than I gave myself credit for and could make a good cop, so I'm kind of doing this for her, and then I turned into a small tray of cupcakes… you're not listening to a single word I'm saying are you?"

"Well Bob, we can't all be rock stars. F11, d71, and X13 I think. He looks too well turned out and well-spoken to be an alcoholic, so put him down as an s11 so we have an excuse to deny him promotion if we need it, people will buy that excuse…" the porcupine's phone rang, a pop-punk track Nick didn't recognise.

 ** _Panic! at the disco:_** I Write Sins Not Tragedies

"Oh sorry let me get this, this is important… Hey Dude, yeah, yeah I totally got that Buy n' Large job! Yeah, I'm there now! Yeah they said I failed the job interview because I was still hungover from that house party we hit up on Tuesday, but my dad plays golf with this old tiger dude from Corporate, so I got the job anyway! It's so awesome, I just go around telling dudes how they suck at their jobs… here wait a sec bro." he stopped talking on the phone, and actually moved his chair and leaned over next to Nick "hey dude, hashtag sad employee selfie! " he said, and leaned in and took a selfie next to Nick.

"Yeah man, I even get my own car! It's so great! Yeah, yeah, yeah I can totally get beer for that party later, well, I gotta go, yeah... later dude… right, sorry about that Mr Wilde, important phone call…. so Bob, where do you see yourself in five years?" he said, hanging up and shifting his seat back to its old position.

Nick stared. "In the police. Like I just _told_ you."

"Really… okay, well, fair enough _that's the dream_ , but being realistic... if you are still working for us, assuming you meet our high quality standards that is, then where do you see yourself in five years?"

Nick smiled happily, and leaned over to address the porcupine in needlessly keen and eager tones as he clapped his hands once and then clasped them together like someone delivering good news and tilted his head on one side in an expression of cherubic innocence.

"Well, let me see now Harry, in you little code language of corporate Bull-hooie, do you have a shorthand for 'standing naked in the parking lot screaming and throwing my own poop at the store while my soul leaves my body?'"

The porcupine gave him a bank look for a moment, and then turned to the tapir from Mammalian Resources.

"Code B11. So Bob, where do you see yourself in _ten_ years?"

Nick stayed in the exact same pose for a long moment, but his eyes widened and ears shot flat.

* * *

The "Staff only" door between the interview room where they had conducted the assessment and the shop floor kicked open, and Nick walked out with a calm little smug smile as the porcupine and tapir trailed in his wake, the porcupine literally bristling, quills ratting as he chittered and raged.

"How dare you! How dare you Bob, I have _never_ been so insulted in my entire life!"

"Well, that's because you've not been weened yet. Get used to it Harry, you've got another six to eight decades of it to go, and then you die. I take it the exit is still this way?" asked Nick, taking off his uniform cap and Frisbee-ing it into the salad aisle as he turned into frozen goods and, with a quiet and polite smile and an "excuse me, sorry I work here" as he relived a customer of their empty cart and begun to wheel it along the aisle. His shift manager Mr Wilkins begun berating him as well from ankle height, but Nick ignored it. It was beneath him.

"Work here? After what you said about me and my father?" raged the porcupine " You are fired! Fired fired _fired._ And you are-"

"Have you filled in my pink slip yet?" asked Nick, walking along as he untied the bow on his apron.

"Well, no it's not like I have one on me…" started the Porcupine.

"Then, woopsie daisy, I'm not fired yet." He said, hanging the apron off the porcupine's face as he wheeled the cart into frozen goods and jumped up and used the handlebar to support his weight as he costed along.

"CALL SECURITY!" yelled the shrew at the goat waiting outside the interview room door.

"They're busy dealing with another Code B11 in the parking lot!" said the goat, as Nick coasted past, happily monologing at the porcupine.

"And oh look, since I'm not fired, I'm going to get paid until the end of the day and still be able to use my staff discount, and while ten percent off is a pretty lousy compensation for minimum wage, crazy customers and having to have ever met you, it's still something so double woopsie, I'm buying your entire stock of Jumbo-pop multipacks, and as I'm re-selling them, you're still paying me seven twenty five an hour to do so until the paperwork clears and, whoopsie-number-three-sie: by and large, Buy n' large's IT department sucks, so it will take them several weeks to block my use of that upselling app that allows me to see customers' past purchasing history, and since you mentioned that you dad plays golf with an elderly tiger from corporate, which going by social media profiles lets me narrow it down to head of corporate in the zootopia metro area, senior vice-president Kahn, I've just posted your entire purchasing history of beer and cross-species erotica to his Wall, which given you must have used a fake ID to purchase those age-restricted products, that would be a dismissal offense under Buy N' Large's employment policy, so good luck explaining that to your boss. Not to mention the nature of those magazines you were buying I mean, who even buys magazines any more, don't you have the internet? Sorry, can I cut in? I work here." He said, easing his way into the front of the line.

"I mean, personally I see nothing wrong with a young stud like yourself being interested mostly in armadillos, whatever floats you boat, I just hope you're as open and honest with your dad as you are with your online sales, because if not I may have just outed you. And I'm sure that corporate will be equally understanding and in no way judgemental about the fake ID situation. Just like I'm sure they won't mind that I sent some phone footage I took of Mr Wilkins helping himself to extras from the charity donation boxes to both corporate and internal auditing, and I may yet bring it up with Judy. You'll remember Judy after she gave me the lift in my first day, Mr Wilkins? Yay tall, winning personality, wore a fetching little blue badge-and-body-armour combo accessorised with handcuffs?" Nick paid Alison on the next till to his, told her to keep the change, she had a sick mother, and then and only then glanced back. Harry the porcupine and Mr Wilkins the shrew were staring dead ahead with identical open mouthed _oh crap_ expressions, and either one or both had taken the news particularly badly as they were standing in their own rapidly expanding damp patch on the shop floor.

Nick grinned, and grabbed the mic on Alison's till. "Can I Alison? Always wanted to say this… _clean up on aisle four, aisle four please._ Well, that's _that_ one off the bucket list." He said, wheeling his shopping cart laden with jumbo-pop's out of the door and into the parking lot, past the screaming naked employee. "Hi Chris, keep up the good work." Nick said as he ripped his uniform polo-shirt off one pawed and flung it aside to revel his Hawaiian and tie underneath (he'd been in a rush after the shrink and had just pulled his work uniform on over his normal clothes, but he had to admit, it made for one heck of a dramatic exit), and pulled out his shades to protect his sensitive night-eyes from the glare of the sun.

Nick glanced around once, and yes, Judy was going to be upset that he'd lost the job, but on the other hand, it looked like a nice hot day, and he was sure that on a day like today pawsicles would outsell hotcakes.

He pulled out his phone as he leaned on the shopping cart as it dialed "Hey, Finnick. Nick. Yeah… you were right, I didn't last a month, just got fired. Yeah, ha-ha, laugh it up all you like, pintsize. Look, you got your van nearby? Uh-huh? And you still got those lollypop sticks from that last job? How many? That many? Good. Finn… get the melting jars loaded up….." said Nick, eyeing up a promising south-aspected rooftop just over the urban divide in Sahara Square. "Let's cook."

 ***Montage of Pawsicle production and sale to tune of** ** _'Keep Their Heads Ringin'_** **by Dr Dre. Melting down a dozen Jumbo-pops, re-freezing on a massive scale, sales, collect used sticks, sell as lumber, drive to new sale location, sell more pops from cooler, lumber, drive to new location, repeat several times increasingly sped up. Cuts to Nick and Finnick in van, Nick counting out notes and Finn driving, song still playing, but now slightly tinny to indicate it's on the van's crappy radio.***

"Nine fifty, sixty, seventy… okay, wow, five times our usual sales, that's nearly a thousand bucks. Thank god for that school trip from Tundra Town to Sahara, a hundred overheating teenaged polar-bears, won't get that lucky again anytime soon." Said Nick, licking his thumb as he counted out notes.

"I told you we could have hiked the price up to ten bucks for them." Growled Finnick. "You always were too soft on kids." He muttered, cutting through the traffic as they headed towards Savana Central and the ZPD headquarters.

"And if I had, we wouldn't have had them coming back for second and third pops each. What's a better deal, selling a hundred pops for ten bucks each, or three hundred at five bucks a pop? That's why I sell, and you drive the van. Add that to our usual hundred sticks at two bucks from the lemmings, passing sales, and the lumber sales…." Nick cut the wedge of cash neatly into two, and then cut one of those into three.

"Here's your cut, hundred and sixty six, but you saved my tail back there at buy n' large, so I've upped it to two hundred. There."

"Pleasure doing business with you." Said Finn, pocketing the cash without taking his eyes of the road. "So, we back in business, or is this a one-off… copper."

"Hopefully, a one off, but knowing my luck? And less of the copper talk: you know I've always tried to stay on the right side of the law, this isn't exactly as much of a stretch for me as it seems."

"Yeah, whatever Fuzz. Face it, you've never been able to cut it in the big-leagues, so you stuck to short-cons and now you're pulling out."

"Oh, yeah. I'm not street like you, I mean… taking a one-sixth share of short-cons? You're the real gangster here."

"Hey, anytime you want to get out of my van and walk, you're welcome. 'Corse, it's gonna be difficult with no _knees_ but your call. I have a life outside of you, you know Nick?"

"Yeah, I know, you told me a hundred times. Bantam weight, wasn't it? Still not sure I believe it. Say, do you wear the diaper for those fights? I'd pay to see that."

"Well I don't care if you believe it or not: you're quitting. Guess you just ain't cut out for the thug life."

"Guess I'm not." Said Nick, leaning an arm out of the widow and pocketing his share of the loot as they pulled up to ZPD HQ. "Thanks for the ride, anyway. And the sale. It… it felt good to do this again, for old time's sakes." He said, opening the door. He then paused, and held out a paw to Finn. Finn rolled his eyes behind his shades, but went to shake it anyway to show there were no hard feelings.

"You'll be back, Nick, you won't make it straight, I guarantee it."

"Well, you've been wrong before. Take care, little guy."

"Drop dead Nick." Said Finn, not unkindly, before snapping his shades back on. "Ciao." He said, but as he put his shades back on, he knocked the radio/CD player, and switched it to CD.

Dr Dre suddenly stopped, and there was a brief and unmistakable blare of Opera as the CD started. Nick and Finn both stared for a moment, before Finn lunged across the van to hit the pause button, his face a picture drawn in panicked chalk by a neurotic pointillist.

Nick slowly broke into a grin, and then took off his shades and leaned on the door of the van, elbow on the window and other paw on hip, and he gestured with his glasses.

"Oh, yeah. I guess you're right, Finn, I'm just not cut out for this thug life…. Opera boy."

"Shut Up! My... my sister borrowed the van the other week: she must have left that in there!"

"Yeah, whatever…Luciano Pavarotter. I mean, personally I think it's cool, having the guts to branch out from the stereotypical tough-guy hip-hop and gangster rap and try something new. I mean, Vivaldi 's _Song of the Ovicaprid slaves_ from Tosca? Not to everyone's tastes. Kudos."

"Hey! It's Verdi and it's from Aida!"

"Yeah, I know." Said Nick, smugly. "Just seeing if you did. Tell ' _your sister_ ' Hi from me: she has excellent taste." He said, making little inverted comas with his claws at the words _your sister._

Finn glared, with a cold fury. "One word Nick, one word to anyone, and you're dead, you hear me? Dead!"

"Why, what are you going to do, seal me in a pyramid?" he said, standing up and walking away from the van and gesturing lazily with a paw.

"One word Nick, and fuzz or not I will hunt you down!"

"What, the fuzz like Baron Scarpia in Tosca? Oh, no it's okay, I believe you I mean, after all, you're the baritone and I'm the tenor, so you're definitely the bad guy, right? That's how this works, isn't it?" he said, walking away from him backwards, and grinning before striking a pose with his glasses clenched to his chest with one paw and the other raised dramatically in front of him before giving a brief operatic "Laaaaaaa!" that caused half a dozen passes by, cop and civilian, to give him a funny look, as Finn glared and ground the gears of the van in blind panic trying to get it into drive and leave before someone recognised him.

"Don't you dare call me again, Nick! You call me again, you _better_ have a good apology ready!"

"Okay, I'll send roses to your changing room _prima donna_! How about that?" he yelled, laughing as the van backfired in a cloud of smelly smoke and then, banging and sputtering, pulled away, skirting the watering-hole in savanna central that was the original centre of zootopia and, in the manner of great historical monuments, now a complete tourist-trap.

Nick looked sideways at the hippo cop giving him the confused look from a few paces away.

"He's had a tough day: got into a fight with a Pharaoh." He said by way of explanation, before walking in to the ZPD headquarters as if he owned the place, fur ruffling for a moment in the welcome blast of the air-con as he took a moment to enjoy that, before walking over to the front desk.

"Hey, Clawhauser, my main mammal! How's life treating you? You lose weight?"

Clawhauser glanced up from his phone, looked around, and then peered down over the desk, his face breaking into a happy grin when he saw Nick.

"Awww, flattery will get you no-where, you know that?" he said, leaning on the desk and reaching over to shake Nick's paw, before groaning and flopping back onto his chair, which creaked and squealed in protest. He fanned himself briefly with a paw, and then reached for a doughnut from the box on his desk.

"You looking for Judy?" the cheetah asked through a contented shower of sprinkles and crumbs, checking his phone again briefly.

"Yeah, is she about? How did her talk with Bogo go?" Nick asked, taking a doughnut to hide his nervousness.

Clawhauser snorted, and took a sip from his bottle of soda.

"Oh, that. Well, a few tears, some drama, but all forgiven in the end, you know?"

"Really? I didn't have Bogo down as the weepy sort: so how did Judy do?" joked Nick, trying to hide his relief that it was all okay. Clawhauser snorted soda out of his nose, and then coughed briefly to hide his laughter.

"Oh, she did fine: Drill Sergeant Furschia is taking her for a fitness assessment, she'll be back anytime now. You want to wait here?"

"Well, I could go outside and admire the monument to where predator and prey first came together to share a watering hole in the spirit of harmony and cooperation and found the greatest city ever known, but I'd never see it through the school trips and souvenir stalls, so I think I'll stay in here with the donuts and air-con if it's all the same with you." He said, helping himself to a second pastry.

"You don't mind?" he asked, nodding towards the box. Clawhauser shrugged.

"Help yourself, they're free, kinda: some charity scheme, they drop of boxes of free donuts every day and then at the end of each week they put a donation box in the atrium here and you get guilt-tripped to putting in for all the donuts you ate in the week. You know, the honour system."

"And they try that with cops? God, they must be losing a small fortune each week." Joked Nick, glancing at the box, and then snorting with amusement. The charity in question was the _United Zootopia Foundation_ and its logo showed an angelic looking sheep holding hands with a wolf in a gesture of goodwill across the species hugely at odds with the two riot-armoured grizzly's wrestling an enraged and swearing rhino who spat speciesist slurs with every other word through the room towards booking, and the other examples of the usual barely controlled chaos of an active police station.

The suspicious distrustful part of Nick's mind, which was to be fair most of it, drew his focus back to the doughnut, and he sniffed at it cautiously. Clawhauser, playing on his phone, noticed and snorted.

"Believe it or not, we did think of that: anyone dropping off free donuts after the situation with Bellwether? We got the drugs-sniffing team to go over them, just in case it was someone with a grudge against the ZPD. If Fangmeyer and her team can't find anything wrong with them, then they're clean."

"Fair enough." Muttered Nick, happily tucking into the doughnut, and then glancing at Clawhauser's phone. "Another Gazelle App?"

"What? Oh, No. Why, don't you have this yet?" asked Clawhauser, leaning over to show Nick the phone. "Gokémon Pro! I loved these computer games and the cartoon growing up, and now you can play it in real life! Isn't that awesome?"

Nick glanced up from the phone to Clawhauser sardonically. "You _do_ realise this is aimed at children, right?"

"Pah, childhood is wasted on children. This is a game for mammals with a sense of joy and purpose and a love of getting outside and exploring their community in the spirit of goodwill… unless you're in the red team, in which case it's just an exercise in trolling. Seriously Nick, how are you _not_ excited about this? It's like the best bits of our childhoods suddenly came to life: I mean, I was a little old for this the first time around, but you're, what, a little younger than me? Thirty one, thirty two? Didn't you have Gokemon as a kid? On Gamecub or something? Have the trading cards? It would have been literally everywhere when you were, what, twelve?"

"Well, I must have had other things going on." Said Nick, breezily. Clawhauser snorted.

"Don't tell me you were into PC gaming or something? The Gamecub was where it was at. Ohhhh, rare Gokemon spotted in the fountain outside!" said Clawhauser, running to the door and pointing his phone through the glass. Nick noticed a dozen mammals outside aiming their phones at the same empty spot, and despite his cynicism and his desire _not_ to open himself up to any more questions about his childhood, his curiosity got the better of him and he wandered over. He spent a while feeling curiously left out by the old school-yard sensation of everyone having a good time but him, before sidling up to Clawhauser and peering at his phone screen from the cheetah's waist height.

There was a brightly coloured animated creature in the fountain, and despite himself, Nick couldn't help but smile at how happy Clawhauser looked throwing animated balls at it with a swipe of his claw.

He got his own Phone out, and started downloading the app.

"How does this work again?" he asked.

* * *

Judy leant with her paws on her burning thighs and panted as Drill Sergeant Furschia pulled to a halt outside the ZPD headquarters, and pushed back her battered academy baseball cap from her forehead with a huge clawed thumb, nodding once to Judy with grudging approval before passing her a water bottle. The Big polar bear hadn't spoken two words to Judy since they'd set off for a run a dozen times round the block, and didn't seem to have broken a sweat. At the academy, her repeated shouts of "You're dead!" followed by some rabbit-specific insult had been a minute by minute test of Judy's will, and just when she'd started to wonder if she could stand the big she-bear's mockery another second, she'd started to make progress through the academy training, and while the sergeant had pushed her even harder from that point, there was always an underlying note of approval from then onwards. The horror stories about Drill Sergeant Furschia at the academy were matched only by the stories of her shouting down the police department, mayor's office and even the Bogo himself to make sure that cadets that she thought had promise got through. If she decided you weren't police material, she'd hound you out pitilessly, but once she decided you were police material she'd go to the barricades for you, and that was that. You could graduate top of a class academically, or top of all of them and graduate Valedictorian, or win one of the athletic or Marksmammalship prizes named in honour of long dead police officers and get the medal from the mayor at graduation… but while all the other instructors were there in their dress blues clapping you, Sergeant Furschia would be there leaning on a tree at the back of the crowd in her academy hoodie and sweatpants and that awful sweat-stained old baseball cap, and as you took your first salute as a police officer from the Mayor, you'd glance to her, and if she thought you were worth it, you might get the very smallest nod and it was then and only then you knew you'd made it as a cop. While Judy's happiest moment of that day was seeing the look on her parent's faces when she got the badge, that tiny inclination of the nodding baseball cap was a close second.

"Well, you're not as bad as I remembered Cottontail." said Furschia phlegmatically, taking the bottle from Judy and taking just enough to wet her lips before passing the bottle back to the rabbit. Judy took it and drained it, marveling both at having earned such high praise from the sergeant, and that while lions and kudu seemed to be struggling in today's unseasonable weather, Furschia didn't seem to even notice it through fur the length of Judy's arm. If anything the polar bear seemed to be enjoying it, judging by her unusually good mood:

"That is to say, long-ears, your stamina is just horrible, _horrible_ and I can hear you puffing and panting like a steam-train half a block away: dear god girl, if you weren't born lucky and fast you'd have got destroyed in a paw-chase by now. Valedictorian my eyeteeth. In these politically-correct days I'm supposed to sugar coat that and say that you're not as bad as some of the wallowing rejects I've seen graduate, but if you'd run like that in front of Dill Sergeant MacKenny who ran the academy when I graduated, he'd have mounted that cute little tail-scutt of yours to his door to polish his claws when he kicked it shut, with the rest of you still attached. God's I must be going soft in my old age… let too many of you worms live. Okay, come on sweetness, once more around the block, and then to the armoury: see if you can still remember which end of a tranquiliser gun is which or if you're going to shoot one of your lucky little feet off." She said, moving smoothly into a fast loping jog that looked shuffling and awkward until you realised just how efficiently it ate up the sidewalk. Judy groaned, but put paw to pavement and pulled level with her after a few seconds. People moved smoothly out of their way as they jogged: one of the few fringe benefits of being brutalized by Furschia was, when people saw a 600 pound polar bear in police gear having a contented jog, they got out of the way.

"So, you and the fox saved the day." Said Furschia, without preamble. "How'd that happen?"

Judy glanced up at her, and then dropped her eyes back to the road. "Still not sure myself Drill Sergeant. Guess I got lucky."

Furschia snorted, sidestepping a hippo mother with a stroller neatly. "Luck my huge snowy behind, I've read the reports. You did good, girl. And less of the Drill Sergeant, you're not in the academy any more, and I officially retired from active police duties the day they decided I was naturally cut out for wiping the noses and holding the paws of tiny baby cops on account of my kind and motherly disposition. I'm on the reserve roster, but unless all hell breaks loose and they need me propping-up a riot-shield, then I'm outside of your chain of command, so you ever need to talk freely, then give me a call. Helpful really, because I am a huge and envious gossip who needs constant feeding of info to feel satisfied. But anyway…. I make a point not to say this often, so don't spread it about, but I was impressed by the way you and Wilde played Bellwether. That was artful."

Judy faltered in her jogging for a moment, genuinely surprised "Thank you Drill … er… Ma'am?"

"Uggg, ma'am, really? Go back to Drill Sergeant or Sarge, I don't think I can take being called ma'am: the only time want to hear anyone make a noise even a bit like _ma'am_ is if I've made them run till they puke. And considering that, I think I've been just about nice enough to you for one afternoon…" she said, and then Judy realised that there was a few hollow bear hairs floating in the air where she had been, and a rapidly disappearing blue uniformed shape yelling "Keep up Fufflybutt! I get to the ZPD atrium before you, we do all this again!"

Judy's eyes widened with astonishment for a moment, and then, despite herself she grinned as a single thought came into her head: _I am a real cop._ And then she put her head down, and despite the burn she was already feeling, she put her powerful back legs into gear and she was dodging through the crowd narrowly avoiding pedestrians as she startled all the mammals not keeping an eye out for someone her height as she cut through the press of bodies, using the path the sergeant had cleared for just long enough to get her speed up and then jinxing sideways, cutting a corner that the larger bear couldn't without physically barging civilians out of the way, and approaching the ZDP entrance at a diagonal and getting in front of the Sergeant with one last frantic burst of anaerobic sprinting.

 _Clonk._ Judy got to the doors of the ZPD, and leaned on them exhausted and panting, heart hammering as the sergeant, now noticeably heavily breathing, pulled up behind her and patted Judy on the back grinning as she walked past, walking off the sprint and cooling down muscles. Judy groaned and let her head bang up against the glass, as she realised that she needed to do some cool-down stretches as well or cramp up, and that those stretches would hurt like blazes.

"I … Still… got it." She panted, slicking her ears back out of her face, they tended to droop a little when she was exhausted, and opening her eyes.

She smiled: Nick was just inside the atrium, about twenty feet away with his phone out and aimed a little off to one side as Clawhauser leaned over the fox's shoulder at the screen and pointed and gesticulated eagerly, clearly having a great time explaining something to Nick. Nick was looking bemused, but happy as Clawhauser gleefully lectured him with several excited paw gestures, and then he happened to glance up, his eyes flicking sideways and his faint bemused smile broke into a grin as he saw Judy, and he gave a sardonic little wave with the paw that wasn't holding his phone and with a theatrically exaggerated mouth movement silently mouthed the words _help me_ before nodding up at Clawhauser and smiling cheekily. Judy couldn't help but laugh: she'd been caught up in Clawhauser's relentless enthusiasm for his hobbies before, and once you were, there was no escape.

 _No, you help ME._ She mouthed back as she grabbed the hand-rail of the door and used it as a bar to stretch out on, nodding behind her to Furschia as the polar bear, with every sign of enjoyment at how much it horrified the tour guides, tilted her baseball cap back as far as it would go and stuck her face in the fountain commemorating the founding of the city to cool down. Nick watched this for a moment as she shook off her wet fur, spraying a passing school party, and then tilted his head to one side, and waved a paw in a gesture of grudging _yeah, okay that's worse than Clawhauser_ acceptance, before giving Judy a mocking thumbs up as the sergeant lumbered over to her and handed her a damp towel to cool off with, then peered at Nick through the glass. Judy noticed that with his usual talent for avoiding trouble, Nick had returned his attention to Clawhauser and his mobile as if he hadn't even noticed Judy there.

"That him?" asked Furschia cocking back her cap with one thumb as she squinted appraisingly at him with a face that reminded Judy of the one her dad got when sizing up second had farm machinery. "That long drink of water?" she said, draping her own towel around her shoulders

"Yes, that's him. The incomparable Nicholas P. Wilde." Said Judy, wiping her face with the towel and then washing her paws with it: it smelt strongly of chlorine from the fountain water, but she didn't mind.

"Incomparable? Well there's a four dollar word for a two dollar critter." said the sergeant, before breaking slowly into a broad grin. "Cute tho', if you go for that sort of thing."

"I wouldn't know." Said Judy primly, ears shooting up with embarrassment. Furschia laughed, a deep throaty chuckle that was somehow far more suggestive than mere words could ever be, and pushed the door open practically bowling Judy in with her.

"I would." Said the Sergeant slyly, and Judy briefly re-assessed her previous comment about words not being suggestive enough, before Furschia rolled into the middle of Clawhauser and Nick like continental drift, dragging the smell of chlorine, wet fur and sweat with her.

"Spots! Is that you, or did they stick your face on a bouncy castle? God's, boy, they still got you staffing that damn desk like they're afraid it will blow away without you weighing it down?" asked Furschia, sauntering over, grasping the ends of the towel draped over her shoulders with each paw like a boxer, and eyeing Clawhauser up. "You ready to lose this Sunday, Jaguar?"

Clawhauser grinned, and leaned on the side of his desk. "Well, we can't all spend our days throwing ourselves at muddy assault courses and frightening the newbies, hun, and I' willing to bet you'll lose this time, Blubberhead."

Judy's eyes widened, horrified. "Clawhauser, you can't just call a polar bear blubberhead! It's really speciesist! And sergeant, Clawhauser is a cheetah, not a jaguar."

There was a brief pause as Furschia, Clawhauser and Nick all stared at her for a long moment, before bursting out laughing. Clawhauser had to sit down, and Furschia started leaning on the desk to keep her balance, tears streaming down her snout for a long time, before she was finally ably to wheeze out between breaths. "NFL! God's, girl, NFL!"

"Huh?" asked Judy, glancing over to Nick who grinned, smugly, and then shrugged.

"Football, Carrots. What else?"

Clawhauser hooted with laughter, clutching at his chest briefly, before pointing to himself and between laughs "Ahahaha…. Tejunga Jaguars, the team I support." He said, before waving vaguely in Furschia general direction.

"Ice-bay Packers, aka the blubberheads. Me and Furschia have had a bet predicting football scores over the season, running for over ten years now Hopps!"

"And you still ain't won it once." Said the big polar bear, leaning both elbows on his desk and adjusting her cap subconsciously. "It's a good thing you're cute, because you sure as hell ain't lucky, Spots."

"Heh, I'll settle for cute Snowy. But no, Judy, by all means let us know if we start being speciesist… because you know, we Preds might just start to revert to type… after all, thousands of years ago…" Clawhauser managed, before he and Furschia cracked up laughing again, and even Nick struggled to hold it in.

Judy groaned, and banged her head on the side of the desk. "I am _never_ living down that stupid press conference, am I?"

"Nope."

"No way Carrots."

"Not in a million years." Said Clawhauser, getting his breath back. "It's okay Hopps, no one blames you, but you have to admit, in hindsight it is pretty funny. It's the police force: everyone has that one embarrassing story that everyone ribs them over, at least you got yours established early on."

"Really, so what's yours Claws?" asked Nick, glancing up at the cheetah in between playing with the new game on his phone and trying to work out what the point to it was. Furschia snorted.

"You're too young to be told." She said, looking down and then extending a paw lazily for Nick to shake. Judy realised that they had never met, and made introductions.

"Nick Wilde, Drill Sergeant Furschia. Nick, she runs the academy's physical conditioning and weapons training programs, but the academy is in between intake at the moment. Sergeant, this is Nick, he's just applied to the academy."

"Be afraid, be very, very afraid." Said Clawhauser jokingly as Nick shook, his paw engulfed in the polar-bear's.

"Aww Spots, don't try and traumatise the poor thing… that's my job. We still up for Sunday?"

"Sure. Is it okay if I bring along Conley, from precinct three?" asked Clawhauser, while Judy took advantage of the moment of calm to stretch off some more against the front desk.

"Conley… is he the cute one, or the one that looks like he's trying to see into both of his own ears at once?"

"Ears, but he's actually really nice once you get past that, and he said he'd bring snacks. Besides, he's a jag's fan, and my run of luck I'll need reinforcements."

"Your run of luck you'll need a dammed miracle, but okay, why not? Pleasure to meet you Nick, look forwards to seeing you at the academy. Come on Hopps, let's hit the showers and then you can disappoint me deeply and lastingly at the shooting range."

"That's what she said." Joked Clawhauser, and Furschia made a rude gesture at him as she walked off. Judy groaned and stopped trying to stretch out her cramp, and Nick realised with a jolt he'd been staring at her as she stretched, and went back to his phone before she noticed.

"Hey." Said Judy. "Thanks for being here for me today… if things hadn't worked out with Bogo…."

"Hey, Carrots, things were always going to work out: Bogo would have to be an even bigger idiot that he looks to let a natural born cop like you slip away. You were always going to do fine"

"That's exactly what I said. Fortunately, I'm not a bigger idiot that I look." Said a deep, calm voice from directly behind Nick. "Hopps, after weapons assessment bullpen, 1500 hours, new assignments. Clawhauser, are you booking in that fox?"

"No Chief Bogo."

"Pity." Said the buffalo, glancing over his glasses at Nick as he flinched, and turned and gave Bogo an apologetic little wave. "Although if not, that does raise the question as to why he's cluttering up my front desk. Come to report a missing self-esteem Wilde?" he said, picking up that week's crime figures from Clawhauser.

"No, just seeing if I could help in any way: do my duty as a concerned citizen… sir." Bogo rolled his eyes, snorted, and walked off. Nick blew a visible sigh of relief. Judy gave him a sympathetic squeeze of a paw. "Don't worry about him, he's better that he seems Nick. You'll just ace that academy pre-selection. So long as you have a legitimate job, they can't touch you."

Nick's face froze up for a moment.

"Yeah about that…."

"Hey cottontail, I know your aim sucks, but how did your body somehow miss the entire armoury?! Insignificant fluffy butt here! NOW!" yelled a voice.

"Oh, peas and carrots! She's going to kill me. Nick, I've got to run. Just, just find somewhere out of the way to wait until I'm done for the day, okay? And remember, I'm so proud of you for sticking at that job!"

Judy said, giving his paw a final squeeze and then running after the Drill Sergeant.

Nick just stood there in the atrium for a long moment, ears askew as he watched her leave.

"Well, good thing you still have the job: I'd hate to be in your fur if you lost it, what with Judy pinning all her hopes on you. What with everything she's been through lately it'd probably crush her emotionaly." Said Clawhauser, slurping the last of his soda through a straw and not looking up from his Gokemon pro.

"Yeah. Thanks Claws." Muttered Nick, still staring into space. "Thanks a _bunch_. Oh god, somebody just shoot me."

* * *

 _Thock! Thock! Thock!_

The three darts slammed into the paper target in a good grouping, near the centre mass and only a little to the left. Judy, grinning behind her safety goggles and comically oversized ear protection, lowered the tranquiliser rifle, feeling pleased with herself.

"Three inch grouping sarge!"

Furschia stood and stared over the range divide, her face resigned with a hint of glum, like someone who'd just spent an hour cleaning her car for every Pidgeon in town to rock up at once.

"You're a cavalcade of bitter disappointment to me in my old age, Hopps, you know that?"

"Eh? What? But my grouping!" said Judy annoyed, putting the rifle down and turning, her badge flashing briefly: she'd changed to her day uniform of body armour and utility belt after her shower, whereas Furschia had simply switched to a cleaner set of sweatpants and academy top; Judy wasn't sure she even owned any other clothes.

Furschia nodded to the rife, leaning on the range divide, which creaked alarmingly under her weight.

"Oh, your shooting is fine, other than having to stand on that box to see over the bench. Not Anne Oakely, but fine I guess. There's nothing wrong with your marksmammalship or your draw speed with the dart pistol or Taser, but your discipline behind the gun is just _awful_. It's a bolt-action, Hopps, not a barn door, you don't have to work it like it's trying to fight back, it should be a smooth, fluid action. In the time you take rattling and clanking that thing around the perp you're aiming at will have either got away, decked you, or died of old age. Here…" she said, taking an identical but scaled-up rifle off the wall behind the range, and walking over to her with it.

"Okay ZPD dart rifle: two lug, front locking cock-on-closing turn-bolt, fired from compressed air. Designed to be identical in its action and trigger pull to our .338 sniper rifles for ease of training and familiarisation. Three round internal magazine, iron sights or optics and all that doesn't matter a damn if you're fumbling around with the back end of it between shots. The bolt pull is short, the bolt will just tickle your cheek as you open it fully." She said, demonstrating with her huge version as Judy mimicked with her miniature one. "See? So why the hell are you lowering the rifle to your waist between shots to work the bolt? That means that not only is your grip shifting a little between each shot, but the stock is in a different position in your shoulder and you need to re-acquire your target picture each and every time! Get that rifle butt set properly in your shoulder and keep it glued there until the magazine is empty, and your eye does _not_ move away from the rear aperture until you need to re-load. And less grabbing and grasping at the bolt like a teen on a first date, it'll flick open nice and easy if you just lift the side of your paw into the underside of the bolt, and then you roll it with your thumb, like this." Said Furschia, lifting her paw from the trigger flat like a blade and opening the bolt with the edge of it, hooking the bolt handle with the back of a thumb and then rotating her wrist in a little circle, sending the bolt back and then rotating her thumb under the bolt handle so she was now holding it with the front of her thumb and pushing it closed and down.

 _Whir-click. whir-click_ Judy watched a couple of times, and tired herself. _Clock-thunk-clatter._ Furschia winced.

"Well, I don't know what effect it will have on the perps, but you sure scare the hell out of me. Keep at it, you'll get there eventually Bunnykins." The big bear checked her wristwatch. "Now, better get you to the bullpen before you're late and Bogo starts to worry that I've accidently breathed you in by mistake." She said, hanging up the rifle and signing off Judy's score with the range martial before ambling good-naturedly towards the exit. As they walked out into the main atrium, Judy glanced over to Clawhauser, still eagerly discussing Gokemon pro, but now with a perp he was meant to be booking in.

"Huh, you know sarge, somehow I never would have put him down as a football fan. He doesn't seem the sporty type."

"Clawhauser? Huh, Bunny, you ever check out the academy and ZPD trophy stand, in the gym there?"

"Too tall, couldn't see up into it Sarge. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Head's going soft in my old age." Said Furschia, with a faint smile, before tapping her baseball cap with a claw. "Once it starts to go up, here, it all starts to go. Run along now Hopps, you don't want to keep the chief waiting." She said.

After the rabbit had gone, she stayed watching Clawhauser for a long moment, before putting her paws on her hips, and sighing sadly. She shook her head. No sense dwelling on the past, she thought, as she walked off.

 **K-topia's all 90's marathon** : _Exit Music (for a film)_ Radiohead

* * *

 ***Slamming door: Music cuts off abruptly. Close up of door, sign reading "deployment and briefings." Hand-written graffiti underneath "The bullpen."***

Judy walked down the aisle to her seat at the front of the room, and as usual the testosterone in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, but unlike her first day she felt like she fitted right in, other officers waving to her, and shouting welcome backs, or encouragements or jokes as she walked along giving as good as she got, wolf-whistling back at Wolford, returning Grizzoli's mocking salute, and rolling her eyes along with Francine and Fangmeyer at just how ridiculous the boys could get as she hopped up onto her chair and fist-bumped officer McHorn, getting pushed back as before, but at least getting a thumbs up from the usually taciturn rhino in the process.

The door kicked open, and Bogo barged in, sheaf of casefiles in hand as always, and the officers in the room shot up, hooting and banging on the desk-tops as usual _Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!_ with Judy joining in whole-heartedly. _I am a real cop._ She thought, huge grin plastered on her face, just happy to finally be back here again. _I am a real cop, and this is where I belong._

Bogo got to his lectern and slammed the casefiles down with a scowl. "All right! Settle down! Settle down!" he yelled, as the hooting stopped. "That's quite enough!"

"Whoo! Whoo!" chanted Judy drumming her paws on the desk, realising just a moment late that she was the only one still chanting. Bogo glared at her, and everyone else laughed, Fangmeyer slapping her on the back good-naturedly.

"In your own time, Hopps."

"Sorry Chief Bogo!" she said, blushing slightly under her fur. Bogo snorted, and shuffled his papers distractedly, having lost his place. He reached for his glasses and took a long moment arranging them, something she noticed he did to buy time during conversation.

"All right, three issues on the docket, firstly, I see we have an officer re-joining us after an absence: glad you could make it in Hopps, we were starting to worry you'd quit on us agian. Now, there was something about a letter of thanks from city hall, expressing their gratitude… whatever." He said, taking the file and slamming it down. That got a laugh, and even Judy had to smile. They all knew the score, any thanks from non-cops was just scrimshaw: pretty embellishment, but meaningless.

"Second, we have a new most-wanted. Public enemy number one." Said Bogo, moving to the chart of mugshots fridge-magnet-ed to the board in the corner that listed the city's ten most wanted, and moving a photo of a scowling Racoon holding a gun and a potted plant down to the number two slot, before slamming a new photo up. Judy shuddered at the sight of those emotionless slit-eyes: it was a face she recognised.

"Doug Ramses." Said Bogo. "Assault 29 counts, attempted murder 29 counts, accessory to the attempted murder of Officer Hopps and Nicholas Wilde before the fact, conspiracy, and violation of the homeland security act. Should be manufacture of a controlled substance as well, but unfortunately _Nighthowler_ isn't illegal yet, although the legislature is working on that. I know at least one of you has met this charmer, but for those of you who haven't, listen up. Believed to be Mayor Bellwether's second in command during the _Nighthowler_ incident, certainly her gunman and chemist, hit 29 known targets during the crisis, turning them into living weapons. Currently the only individual known to be at large from Bellwether's conspiracy since we suspended officers Ovid and Ramsey, and more importantly the only mammal we know of other than homeland security's own scientists who can produce _Nighthowler_ in viable abounds. For those of you needing help with this, this is one bad mammal. Highly intelligent, top grades through high school, joined the cadet branch in school, heavily interested in military affairs from an early age but passed over by the marine corps at eighteen: rejected on the grounds that he was too intelligent for infantry; there was apparently an unacceptably high chance that he would become bored during boot camp and quit part-way, wasting valuable and expensive training… but here's where it gets interesting, the recruiter in question was later removed from recruitment duties on the grounds that in two years, he failed to recruit a single herbivore. The officer, a wolf, maintained even during his court martial that he did not believe that a non-predator could ever have the killer instinct needed for the corps and apparently made no secret in telling the herbivores he rejected this. Whether it had an effect on Mr Ramsey we can only guess, but from that point on, dropped out of university, chemistry major, involved in a number of 'Prey Self Defence' groups and militias, owned over forty licenced firearms at various points in the last decade, a series of low-paid but skilled jobs: barista, paint-mixer, cable tv repair, apprentice auto-mechanic... until about two years ago when he just dropped off the radar. Not registered to vote, no known address, no phone contract, no known employer, no social security paid, no social media accounts, no living family. Nothing. He's a ghost."

Bogo snorted angrily, glaring at the photo for a moment, before walking back to the lectern.

"So we have nothing on him, no leads, no intel… nothing. He's highly intelligent, ideologically motivated, and has no loved ones to leverage, and is considered armed and highly dangerous and if that wasn't enough, he's been a busy boy… Hopps, the lights please. " said Bogo, and Judy dropped of her chair and nipped over to get the switch.

 _Click_. As the light went off, Bogo gave her a nod of thanks, and pulled out a remote and flicked on a projector. A police mug shot appeared on the screen, a large tiger, with a stich above a blackened eye.

"Third on the Docket, Viktor Kazyk, male Siberian tiger, thirty one years of age. Known to ZPD since his teens for petty crime and making affray, but nothing too serious. Worked at a gym, teaching self-defence. This photo was taken that last time we interviewed him. He'd come into a city hospital once a month, regular as clockwork, beaten pretty badly, defensive wounds consistent with a single attacker, usually another large pred, bear, big cat, large wolf. And without fail we'd get a big pred with defensive wounds consistent with a tiger in another city hospital the same day. Both would get questioned by us, claim to know nothing, pay the medical bills in cash and walk. Like Viktor the other guy always had an interest in mixed martial arts, and a lifestyle that exceeded his apparent income. We'd suspected for years that Viktor was involved in back-street, unlicensed prize-fighting and we were just seeing the aftermath, but he always took the fifth, and we could never prove anything. "

Bogo sighed, and took of his glasses, looking up from his case notes. "I pulled him in personally, once, told him that if he kept it up, he'd get killed one day. Illegal fights are illegal for a reason: There are no rules. No match doctors. No safety nets." He said, sadly. "and this is the photo we took of him this morning."

 _Click._

Judy looked for a long second, her nose twitching and ears shooting up with shock, and she swallowed nervously, desperate not to show surprise and look weak in front of other cops. That said, the room had gone very, very quiet, and she thought she heard DelGatto make a wrenching noise.

Bogo looked around the room, being careful to look everyone one of his officers in the eye before he mercifully switched to the next slide. From this point of they were in black and white, courtesy of the medical examiner.

"Precinct four fished him out from the Rainforest district river, and no, the damage you see is not caused by fish or boat propellers, it's what it looks like, teeth... all ante-mortem. We're still trying to work out species, but the dentition on the bite-marks is constant with an ursine. There was bear blood under his claws, and brown bear hairs were found between his teeth. And this is why Ramses has moved to the number one slot on our list: both the bear blood under his claws and his own tox-screen showed high levels of _Nighthowler_ cut with stimulants… on top of that we had last week's ruckus with the ear bitten off at the last Tejunga jaguars football game, Grizzole's bodega robbery where the stoat tried to bite two officers twenty times his weight to death, that incident at the rail station, and the bizarre and violently savage behaviour at that unsolved bank job in Sahara square… in the first the anti-doping force found no banned substances in the athlete's system to explain his aggression, so I ordered the test repeated in our lab, _Nighthowler,_ low levels but certainly there, and he walks because it's not illegal yet. The next two the perps had _Nighthowler_ cut with stimulates in their system, the final case the perps got away, but an inhaler was recovered from the scene… a mix of Nighthowler and the Nighthowler antidote, boiled in rice to coat the antidote in starch to delay its entry into the system … gives a burst of feral rage that wears off after a few minutes. The genie is out of the bottle, people. Someone out there is making _Nighthowler_. It's on our streets, it's being used as a performance and aggression enhancer, and as poor mister Kayzk can attest, the dosage difference between giving someone an edge in the fight and sending them into a an uncontrollable long-lasting feral state is minimal, and some mammals clearly don't care who gets hurt so long as they get their fight out of it."

He slammed a fist into the photo of Doug Ramses's face. "And this scum here is our only lead on how or where this stuff is getting made. Twenty three years on the force, and I _never_ imagined I'd live to see a drug that makes mammals try to _eat_ each other. I want him. I want him in a cell, on trial, and then taken to our fine prison system and literally thrown to the wolves, preferably ones who don't get congenial visits. And more than that, I want to know if he's just gone corporate and is selling this stuff for fun and profit, or if this is part of some plan to further destabilize our city. Find. Me. That. _Ram_."

Bogo looked the room up and down, and flicked the slideshow back to what the tiger looked like when the pulled him out of the river, before nodding to Judy to put the light back on and switching off the projector.

"So, any case you run, any strange behaviours you encounter, any _sniff_ of _Nighthowler_ and you drop what you were doing like it's hot, and follow the lead. Got it? This is our priority number one. Now, you all have casefiles and ongoing assignments with the exception of DelGatto and Hopps, DelGatto, I want you on Sahara swat replacing Wolford to free up another drug-sniffing trained wolf for Fangmeyer's _Nighthoweler_ taskforce, report to Drill Sergeant Furschia to renew your weapons training certificate and then transfer to Lieutenant Crocus in Special Weapons. Hopps, you can take over DelGatto's missing mammal's case. Elmi Jamal, Camel oil-securities trader left work at the stock exchange nearly a month ago and never made it home to the wife in Sahara Square. No witnesses, no leads, and hundreds of hours of CCTV we haven't had the chance to look at yet because we only just got it released to us. All yours." Said Bogo, pointing to a wall panel covered with photos stills, phone records and medical certificates

"DelGatto has been trying to make sense of the info on that panel. Briefly put, he left work one afternoon and never made it home, his phone records show nothing suspicious other than a long video-call made from his office PC to his wife at home every morning, a fringe web-chat service specialising in, and this is how they market it, secure romantic calls with a series of filters and music options to set the mood, apparently, and his medical file shows him to be in excellent health physically and mentally. No sightings, wife and best friend at work noticed he was acting strangely in the days leading up to the disappearance, but no firm leads. Copies of all we have are included in the casefile, and you are now inducted to the computer system. Welcome back."

"Glad to be back, Sir."

"Good, then find me that mammal, he has a wife who is very concerned that he's missing… I thought you'd be good at this."

"Don't worry chief, I'll bring him back safe and sound. You can rely on me!" said Judy, sitting up behind her desk radiating keen alertness.

"Dead." Said a familiar bored voice from the back of the room. "Wife killed him."

Judy froze up in horror _surely not…_

She turned.

The last row of desks in the room were unoccupied: not enough officers in the room to fill them, and they'd been pushed together in the corner to make a rough wall.

Just visible poking our behind one end of it was a bushy russet tail. A pair of pointed ears adorned the other end.

Judy stared in horror, as did about a dozen police officers.

There was a small sad _scrunch_ nose from the front of the room, as Bogo partly crushed the projector remote with his fist. When he spoke, his voice was dangerously calm, almost playful.

"Hopps, dear officer Hopps… please tell me that I have just had my overdue stress-related stoke, because _that fox_ is _not_ in my Bullpen, is he Hopps? _Is he Hopps!_ "

"No sir, definitely not sir!" yelled Judy, sprinting to the back of the room and vaulting the wall of desks angrily. Nick had pushed all the spare chairs together into an improvised sofa, and was lying on it on his back, playing with his phone.

"Nick! What are you doing? This is a restricted area! Didn't you see the sign? Strictly no entrance unless invited by-"

"Invited by a ZPD officer, yeah. You told me to find somewhere quiet to wait until you finished your shift!" said Nick, leaning up on one elbow as he gestured with his phone. "How was I to know every cop from here to second-street was about to converge on this room?"

"Out! NOW!" she hissed.

"Okay okay! I'm going… it's not like I planned to get trapped in here with you anyway! I was just trying to find a good WiFi spot: I only read you're stupid wall of evidence because I was hoping he'd have writern down the Wi-Fi details." He said, getting up and being shooed out the door by Judy. "Wife still killed him 'tho, having read your wall I'd put money on it."

"What do you mean by _that."_ Said Bogo, in a flat rage. "It is one thing, Mr Wilde, to make a mockery of my police station and damage officer Hopps's reputation in the processes, it is _Quite_ another to throw slanderous actuations out at grieving and frightened relatives of missing mammals. So unless you want a _very_ expensive lawsuit, explain yourself. _Now."_

Nick paused, and then gestured to Bogo. "Well, missing more that twenty-four hours, so statistically speaking, dead, right? And again, the statistics mean if he _is_ dead, it's usually a loved one? What was the number, more than seventy present of married murder victims, the killer is the spouse? Right?"

Bogo paused a brief second, and then putt on his glasses and made an exaggerated, simpering gesture and matching voice. "Oh _really?_ Well gosh, in my two decades on the force, it would _never_ have occurred to me that that was possible. I was entirety un-aware of those statistics! Silly me!" his face dropped and his voice hardened. "Get that fox out of my building _now._ And I'll have you know, fox, that the wife has an alibi."

"Yeah, but only from the best friend, and his only alibi is the wife, add that and the timing problem, and it's kinda obvious." He said, as Judy grabbed him by the arm and tried to drag him from the room, before resorting to a police hold, with his paw twisted behind his back.

Both her and Bogo paused.

"Timing problem?" Bogo asked. He gave Judy a look, and a very slight nod, and she let go off Nick.

 **Nick's leitmotif from the zootopia soundtrack starts playing: "Jumbo Pop Hustle"**

Nick gave her a grateful nod, massaging some feeling back into his arm. "Yeah, well, early morning calls to his wife on a specialist secure flirting program? He sees her at six, and he's calling her up again by eight? I'm fine with the idea that they are still very much in love, but firstly, he's Horney as anything if he can't wait until lunch and Secondly, he's an _oil_ trader. "

Bogo paused, nonplussed. "So?"

Nick breamed, and pointed to the photo of the missing mammal leaving the stock exchange for the last time, last confirmed sighting. "Wallow street, corner of the plaza, the Dow-Bones, next to Lemming brothers bank. I sold pawsicles there most days for twenty years: I could tell you an oil trader from a gold trader at thirty paces and what they are most likely to buy, how much they tip, where they go for lunch, what they order, and I know the schedules they keep. The biggest oil producing nations are in the gulf, that's seven hours ahead of us, so the local stock exchange TADAWUL, closes up three pm local time, 1500 hours. So the day's final prices of crude in the gulf are announced at eight am our time, and every day he takes a half-hour phone sexy phone call to his wife call from ten to eight to twenty past, at the one time of the day he absolutely _needs_ to be on the trading floor? Hell, July sixth, he misses the announcement of the second quarter's brent crude production figures because he's having an hour long flirt with his wife? No. No way in hell is he keeping his job if he misses that to flirt with the Mrs, let alone making the huge bonus he made last year… I'm sorry, I read your wall o' info, I was looking for the Wifi password, I know I shouldn't have but I did, and his phone calls do _not_ make sense, until you consider the obvious: he's not the one making the calls. Someone with access to his office who knows when he's busy on the trading floor, and uses the time to call the little lady when he's away… and given we only have the best friend, a gold trader, works in the same office but entirely different schedule, providing the wife's alibi and visa versa…" Nick shrugged. "And since the only reason we assume he vanished under his own power is the best friend and wife both saying he was acting oddly, and that's not cohobated by anyone else, why should we buy that? My money is on a saucy little camel stockbroker love-triangle were someone decided to murderer the hypotenuse. It would be hell to try and check if he was on the trading floor at the times he's supposed to be making those calls, the CCTV will be a mess, too many mammals running around at once… but there will be footage if you try hard enough, and the trades he's registered as having made should help you narrow down the timeline. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he is making the video calls to the wife, but unless he's a time-traveler, he'd have to miss the most important part of an oil trader's day to do so. "

Bogo paused, and looked from him to Judy. "That's still _damn_ thin fox."

Nick grinned, "Yeah, but you know what isn't? The wife. Heh, that reminds me, you want to hear a funny joke? What do you call a three humped camel?"

Bogo glared like he actually wanted to gore Nick into the carpet, and Judy hid her face in her paws. "Oh _darn."_ She muttered. Nick didn't seem to notice either.

"Pregnant!" He said, face lighting up with glee as he laughed at his own joke and gestured to Bogo, delivering the punchline. "Eh? Eh? Okay, Grizoli laughed a little, someone gets it!" he said, making thumbs-up pistol gestures with both paws and pointing.

"Hopps, get him to the cells, and the more stairs he falls down on the way, the happier I will be." Said Bogo, flatly.

Nick chuckled, a touch nervously. "Ahh, but no, seriously Bo-Bea, d'you mind if I call you that? Ohhh, guess not. No Chief Bogo, look at the photo of the wife the day she reported the husband missing, versus at the last appeal for witnesses she made yesterday. " said Nick, taking the remains of the projector remote from Bogo, and getting both pictures up on the whiteboard side by side after a moment's fumbling. "Not quite a huge baby-bump yet… but she has defiantly put on four inches on the waist, at least, in under a month."

"Maybe she's comfort eating because her _husband has disappeared."_ Said Bogo

Nick rolled his eyes. "Sure, whatever. Maybe… except what _exactly_ is a camel's hump made of again?" he said, making a head scratching gesture of comically over the top bemusement. "Remind me again."

"Oh Oh!" went Grzzoli, paw raised in a _pick me_ gesture until Bogo's glare killed it, at which point he looked around awkwardly and said. "Well, it's a water supply for the desert, isn't it?"

Bogo snorted. "And that's why you're a cop and not a medic: only infants believe that, its actually…" he paused, brow wrinkling, as he looked at the two side by side photo's again. "It's fat… a camel's hump is fat, a desert food store…. If a camel gains or loses weight, they gain or lose it at the hump."

"And Mrs Jamal's hump stays the same size, whereas her belly gets a lot bigger. Three humped camel. And given you convinced Mr Jamal's doctor to release his medical records as pertinent to the case and DelGatto pinned them to the wall there, I thought that pregnancy was quite the neat trick, considering that Mr Jamal had a vasectomy nearly two years ago. Gosh, it's miracle. Virgin birth… or maybe, in don't know…. sexy phone calls between husband's office and wife when the husband can't possibly be in that office, Missus suddenly finds herself in the family way, her and the husband's best friend providing alibi's for each other…. Wow, if only there were some cops around to connect all these dots, it's a mystery to me!" said Nick, throwing up his paws theatrically. He then went back to his phone.

"Also, and I'm cheating here because I'm using info you don't have access to, but before I got fired form my Job at Buy N' large, I had to use an app to look up a customer's purchasing history to try and recommend things to them at the tills-"

"Wait, Nick you got _fired?"_ asked Judy, aghast. Nick froze up for a moment.

"Yeah, I was kind of building up to telling you about that… but look the point is, I ran the wife's Buy N Large account for the day the husband went missing, and it's not good: Plastic sheeting, bleach, a hacksaw, Justin Beaver CD, and elbow length rubber gloves and a waterproof apron. Ugg… who even _buys_ CD's anymore? And Justin Beaver? That should be a crime right there. But most tellingly? No spade, no shovel, but eight duffel bags and eight sets of dumbbells. Didn't buy at her nearest store, either, she bought out of an out-of-town 24 hour mega store, near maintenance route eight. That puts her a long way from home, but conveniently close to the old Wombatville industrial aggregates site: abandoned gravel quarry, thirty meters deep, and mostly flooded now a days. You want to find this guy? Don't call Hopps, get the diving team on it." Said Nick, flashing up the store and Gravel pit locations on _Zoogle Maps_ with the projector.

"I… look I know you can't use what I just told you, but if you were, say, to get an anonymous tip from a Buy N Large employee mentioning a camel matching the wife looking shifty and buying these items at that store at that date and time, you could use that to subpoena the wife's credit-card history and the store's CCTV. Send a black and white to pick up her and the best friend once you've got the CCTV, and you could have them both in here in under an hour, stewing in the cells as you tell them you're dredging the quarry, see who rolls over first. My money is on the Friend, I've never met a gold trader yet that didn't love a good flight to safety, he'll deal." Said Nick, putting down the whiteboard remote, and turning to leave: he was suddenly suspired to find that he'd enjoyed working out the details of the case, there was a slightly voyeuristic thrill to it, looking into other people's lives and unpicking them, not unlike the buzz of a good hustle. No not even that, he realised, people lied to the police: it was what you did, and that was them hustling you, you just tried to out hustle them _back_ and he felt strangely… empty… now that it was done.

"I… I'll see myself out. Sorry to have interrupted your first day back, Judy." He said, tuning to go.

He'd just got to the door, when Bogo spoke behind him, his voice incredulous.

"How long were you waiting in here for before we came in?"

Nick shrugged. "About five minutes."

Bogo stared. "You solved a missing mammal case that we've been on for a month, worked out it was a homicide, the culprit, the motive, and the location of the body with no resources other that the casefile and a phone, in _five minutes?"_

Nick pulled a dismissive, self-depreciating face, muzzle wrinkling: Judy recognised it as the one from the sky-tram, when asked if anything got to him. He seemed genuinely embarrassed.

"Actually, it was more like three: like I said, I was trying to find the WiFi code; Clawhauser got me a free trial on this Gokemon pro game, and I was trying to connect to the servers… ohhh, they're back up!" he said, eagerly, scanning the room with his phone, before aiming it at Bogo and, tongue out the side of his mouth with concentration, he made a little ball-throwing flick with his finger on the screen.

"Ehehehe, got you! Sorry.. you… you had a Pika-Boo between your horns there chief Bogo, and I needed one." He looked around at the stunned and disbelieving faces of the cops in the room.

"What?" he asked.

* * *

Judy sat bolt upright in front of chief Bogo's desk for the second time that day as the big Buffalo paced restlessly behind it, snorting and scowling. With the possible exception of when she told Mrs Otterton she'd take the case without his say so, she'd never seen him this angry. What was worse, was that he seemed to a particularly dislike the idea that Nick was right, and had got progressively angrier the more evidence turned up: they'd got the CCTV footage from the store in a couple of hours: they knew the time and date they needed from Nick's tip off, and a store chain that big had dozens of shoplifting cases a week: they had a pretty good working relationship with the police with dedicated liaison officers, and since you had no reasonable expectation to privacy in a store there was no need for a subpoena, and cameras were specifically aimed at the till to catch thieves, so the footage showed exactly who it was, and what they were buying, and came with no legal strings attached. The wife buying, while the husband's best friend was seen in the parking lot waiting with the wife's car. Despite the weight of the dumbbells, all the shopping went in the back seats: they were very careful not to open the trunk in the lot. Forensics had already been over the car and got nothing, but they had now gone back and ripped out the carpets and swabbed underneath; bleach could lift bloodstains and destroy DNA, but when used on carpeting it also tended to laminate some surviving DNA and proteins to the surface underneath. They'd get the results in the morning, in the meantime they were now striping the house and the best friend's home as well. Both suspects were in custody, Judy had been sent to pick up the best friend from the stock exchange while district 5 picked up the wife and brought her to the ZPD HQ, and a diving team was preparing to sweep the lake first thing the next morning. The wife wasn't talking, but the best friend had been in a tense, private discussion with his lawyer for the past hour. He'd asked to speak with the assistant DA. Judy flicked her eyes to the clock on the wall, just once. This morning, she didn't know if she was on the force or fired, this afternoon she had been welcomed back, and Nick had had a job. Now things were a little less certain for the both of them. And it wasn't even nine pm yet.

 _Buzz. Buzz._ Bogo's phone vibrated across the desk, briefly. A text. He glared at if for a moment, and then picked it up and swiped to answer with surprising delicacy considering how agitated he looked.

His eyebrows furrowed, as he glared at the phone. There was a long moment of silence.

"The husband's friend just turned state's evidence: accessory after the fact, under duress and treat of blackmail, full testimony against the wife in exchange for clemency. The DA's considering lowering the charge from accessory after the fact to preventing the right and lawful burial of a body if he goes with the diving team and shows them where to look. Three to five with good behaviour." Bogo scowled, and put the phone down. "Well, I'll see about that. Perhaps I'll tell the wife he's ratting her out, see if she'll return the favour, she looks smart enough to know the prisoner's dilemma, but she might just try and take down lover boy just out of spite. If we can get each of them testifying the other pulled the trigger, we can put them both away for twenty-five to life." He said, grinding his teeth. "In all, a good result." He said, like each word that came even close to praise cost him an ounce of flesh.

He glared at Judy, and as she opened her mouth to speak, held up a finger in warning.

"No. no, if you are thinking of saying what I _think_ you are thinking of saying, then no. _no."_

"Sir, he did solve the case…"

Bogo slammed both fists down onto the desktop, making Judy flinch.

"He snuck into the Bullpen, read what he could clearly see was confidential information concerning a missing mammals case, abused the fact he was still on Buy N' Large's computer system to pry into the personal accounts of someone who, unless you've forgotten, is still innocent until proven guilty, and then made a fool of us both in front of the entire shift! I don't care if he solved world hunger, he's a dammed con-artist, and if you're about to say what I think you're going to say, Hopps, then I don't want to hear it!"

Judy took a deep breath. She didn't want to do this, but she knew she had too. _I am a real cop. Trust, Bravery… Integrity._ _I have to speak my mind here or lose my integrity._

"Sir, I'm about to say what you think I'm about to say. Sorry Sir."

Bogo scowled at her for a long moment over his desk, before stalking to the door of his office and wrenching it open and bellowing.

" _CLAWHAUSER! HERE, NOW! BRING WILDE'S FILE WITH YOU!"_ he yelled, before stalking back to his desk and dropping into his chair with enough force to send it wheeling back squeaking in protest, before leaning one arm over it as if exhausted, and turning to give Judy a long, slow stare.

"You're a good Officer, Hopps. Even if I don't want to hear it, you deserve to make your point." He said, distractedly reaching into his desk-draw and pulling out a cylinder of prescription anti-acids with built in cud-softener and popping the lid before swallowing two. "So, we'll do what it says in the union's workplace conflict resolution guidelines, and both address our points of view to an impartial third party." He said, chewing angrily, as Clawhauser apologised to the perp he was booking in and made his way over, his radio still playing.

 **K-Topia's MTV classics hour:** _Queens of the Stone Age._ No one Knows.

"I thought those guidelines were for resolving major conflicts where someone's job was on the line, sir." Said Judy.

Bogo glared at her for a long moment.

"You think it isn't?" he said, jokingly. Or at least, she hoped that was jokingly, as Clawhauser rushed in at his usual speedy waddle and shut the door behind him, muffling the music.

"Is it true sir? About Nick?" he asked, breathlessly.

Bogo scowled. "God's, cops and gossip. Yes, it's true. We're discussing it now."

Clawhauser froze up for a moment, and then clenched his phone to his chest with both paws and let out a noise that could only be rendered phonetically as _Squee._

"He actually caught a Pika-boo in the bullpen! O M Goodness! What level was it? Did he say? Where's the spawn point? Did he have to use a lure or incense? Ohhhhh… this is so cool!"

Bogo and Judy just stared, Judy blankly and Bogo aghast. Bogo pointed to the spare chair in the corner, without changing his facial expression a micrometre.

"We were discussing the fact that Mr Wilde violated a police-only area of the station and breached the Protection of Confidential Information directive, and just because he caught a murder everyone but me seems to be somehow impressed by this." Said Bogo, ruminating, before leaning over the desk aggressively and steeping his figures and smiling, with a very clearly un-genuine happiness.

"Now, I believe Officer Hopps had a suggestion about how to proceed with the matter. Hopps?"

Judy took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. _Spit it out girl._ She thought to herself.

"Sir, we should hire Nick as a consultant sir." She said, quickly before she lost her nerve. "He clearly has the talent, and given that he's trying to find a lawful job to put on his academy application-"

"Absolutely not! It's bad enough that I have to put up with him slinking about the place without paying him to do it! Our budget is stretched as it is and we can't afford to waste tax dollars on mollycoddling ex-criminals into civilian life, let alone into the academy!" he said, before both him and Judy turned to Clawhauser.

"You are supposed to mediate between us." Said Bogo, flatly, after a moment. "Play devil's advocate to whatever we say."

"Oh, Okay. So this _isn't_ about Gokemon?" he said, clutching his phone hopefully.

"Clawhauser!"

"Sorry sir. Umm… technically private consultants come out of mayor Lionhearts _Safer streets_ _initiative_ budget, not our operational budget. So… really, it wouldn't be costing us a penny, sir."

Bogo glared. "Well, we could still use that budget for something more constructive than Mr Wilde."

"Well… the only mammal we only ever hired with it was that physic during the _Nighthowler_ missing mammal cases. You remember sir? That elephant "Madam Nangi the Mystical?" filled the entire office with incense smoke and dangled that crystal pendulum over the map? Told us to look within ourselves if we wanted to find the missing mammals and you said "look inside ourselves? That's easy for you to say because I have never seen someone so blatantly pull an answer out of their-"

"That was a one off!" protested Bogo. "The mayor insisted we hire her, and in hindsight it was a pretty good attempt by him to distract us from the fact he had them bottled up in that damn asylum!"

"She did do a good job at fixing the feng-shui in the atrium. I feel a lot better with my desk in the new position: I can see the doughnut devilries arrive before anyone else."

"So… we _can_ afford to hire Nick?" asked Judy. Bogo glared.

"Absolutely not! Even if that budget isn't our main one, we could still find a far better use for it! Right?" asked Bogo, turning to Clawhauser. The cheetah shifted awkwardly.

"Umm, well actually sir we have seventy thousand dollars in there and if we don't spend it before the end of the fiscal year we won't get the same budget next year: we have to show we used all the money or they'll cut the grant, so we need to spend seventy grand in two months. I did send you a memo after last week's consultation board…"

Bogo glared. "So hire some clowns to teach road safety to disabled children! Something more useful than hiring that damned fox!"

"You remember the mayor's _No Child Unprotected Initiative_ sir? The one where the mayor hired clowns to teach children self-defence? The press scandal after the custard pie with the Taser hidden inside, and the kickboxing bouncy-castle ruckus? Bellwether was hospitalised for two months, and she got off lucky compared the rest of the crowd. The specific two-year ban on using civil funds to hire clowns, mimes or jugglers? Grizzoli still has flashbacks, sir."

Bogo glared. "Giving him experience working with the police would give him an unfair advantage over other academy applicants." he said, at Judy. Judy and Bogo then glanced to Clawhauser.

"Umm… well sir, given the number of ex-military, ex sheriff's department and athletics scholarships or honour students that apply, he'd not be the only applicant this year with prior experience in this area, if anything he'd still be at a disadvantage compared to some of the applicants."

Bogo ground his teeth, or perhaps just a particularly stubborn bit of cud, like he wished it was Nick.

"There is no point wasting the department's money or the academy's time trying to help him get a job so he can apply for the academy when he'll be rejected on the grounds of his past criminal behaviour anyway. While we're sitting here discussing him, he's probably thinking up other scams to run."

Judy frowned. "Sir, he is trying, and I for one think that if he says he's going straight, and then he's going straight."

"He doesn't have the temperament for it. He'd never handle the workload."

Judy looked to Clawhauser, who shrugged as if to say that he didn't know Nick well enough to comment on that, and Judy realised he'd have to speak up for Nick.

"Well sir, you say that…but A, it's a little un PC and B, he did make two hundred dollars a day selling pawsicles. That's more than a hundred sticks a day. That's a twelve hour days, walking and talking, all over the city, keeping an eye out for trouble, knowing the streets… one thing he can do, sir, he can walk and talk, and for uniform, that's a heck of a lot of the job sir. He has a laidback look to him, sir, but he's not unfamiliar to honest work. "

Bogo snorted. "Honest? He's up to something, I know it. I just don't know what it is, but trust me, some day he'll slip up, and I'll find out and-"

Bogo's phone rung. Judy and Bogo both went wide eyed, but Clawhauser started Squeeing again.

 ** _Slightly Tinny rendition of "Try everything."_**

"Sir, your ring tone is Gazelle? Awwwwwww!"

Bogo scrambled back into his desk draw to get his phone.

"Not now Clawhauser! Can't you see I have an important call? Hello, Chief of Police Bogo? I… What? Who is this?" Bogo, frowned, and put his face in a hand and leaned on the desk in frustration. "Sir, I don't know how you got this number, but I can assure you mister Maulwurf, that I am not called Carlos, and if you need to re-book your psychiatrist's appointment, then this is the _wrong number._ Good day!" he said, slamming the phone down.

He paused, an then went pack to glaring at Judy and Clawhauser.

"Where was I?"

"Nick is still conning people and you think you'll find out?" said Clawhauser.

Bogo paused, and then grinned, evilly. "Oh yes. He may think he's smart, but he doesn't have a cops' instincts. One thing that separates an amateur detective from a trained cop, the ability to never miss a lead or follow up a hint when one drops into your lap-"

 ** _Slightly Tinny rendition of "Try everything."_**

Bogo glared, and answered the phone again. "Chief Bogo? No... No you just called the same number again mister Maulwurf. No I don't care what it says on the business card, please don't call again!" he hung up.

"Nick's criminal record will stop him making it through the academy." He said, flatly. Both him and Judy looked to Clawhauser, who shifted awkwardly.

"Well, actually, he's never been arrested or charged with any crime. He's got one formal caution on his record, but it's a misdemeanour, and he was never arrested or charged for it: Trading without a licence and moving undeclared commerce across borough lines: let off with a caution because it was a first offence, and he was twelve at the time. And then nothing for twenty years. If he's committed a felony, it's one we're never likely to find out about"

Bogo started, disbelieving. "Nothing?" he said, biting an anti-acid in half with shock and letting it fall to the desktop.

"Not until he met Judy, sir. And even then, with Homeland Security asking us to keep that under wraps, we'd never be able to charge him, and if he did he could claim duress and sue us. Seeing how upset Homeland are over this whole _SafetyNet_ fiasco I don't think we want to provoke them."

"Safety-net?" asked Judy, nose wrinkling in confusion. Bogo and Clawhauser both had identical _oh crud_ faces for a moment, before Bogo _Harrumphed_ and said.

"Forget you heard that, that doesn't leave this office Hopps. So, you're saying that there is actually nothing that would be an obstacle to Wilde attending the academy?" said Bogo to Clawhauser, genuinely surprised. Judy's heart sored with pride, and she sat up a little straighter, chin held high.

Clawhauser smiled helpfully. "Oh no sir: there are _huge_ problems about him getting into the academy: namely his lack of a high school education, driving licence and his physical fitness."

Judy turned her head sharply to Clawhauser, shocked.

"He doesn't have a high school diploma?" she said, genuinely surprised. "He's the smartest person I've ever met." Clawhauser shrugged.

"He hardly has a middle school diploma: he dropped out of education at age twelve: his mother was listed as home-schooling him, but he only just passed middle school and never attended a high school. His grades were straight A's until he was nine, wavered but still good between nine and twelve, and then he just inched past home education assessments from then on. He'd need to pass a high school equivalency and get a driving licence before he could start at the academy, and the next intake is in a few months: it'd be a close run thing."

Bogo glared "Hardly a ringing endorsement for the academy."

Judy glared back. "Sir, if you honestly think he's not smart enough, or that he couldn't knuckle down and they the equivalency certificate in time, you say so, sir, and I'll walk out of this room and never bring it up again. But he needs a legitimate job, and what's more than that, he's _wasted_ stacking shelves in some supermarket when he could be helping us crack cases, and you know it… Sir."

Bogo sat and watched Judy for a long moment, before snorting and angrily gesturing to the door.

"All right. Fine. I took a risk with you: if he strikes out, I can just fire him later. He gets the same pay that the self-defence clowns got, though. And until he graduates from the academy he's still a civilian, he doesn't clutter up the canteen or bullpen unless _I_ specifically invite him. Get him in here: I know he's waiting out there. I can't see hear or smell him, but I can _feel_ his aura of vague smugness leaching through my walls. Let's get this over with."

Judy nodded, slipping of the chair gently and padding over to the door softly.

"He's not that bad, sir, once you got to know him. He's not smug, sir, just…. Just supremely confident in his own skills, sir."

Bogo glanced up, putting on his glasses and pulling out a casefile form the locked file cabinet in the corner of the room.

"So smug then." He said flatly, as Judy opened the door and went and, booting herself up to see, peered over the railing from the balcony and down to the main atrium.

Nick was sat in Clawhauser's seat at the front desk, laughing and joking with the Hippo Officer that had taken his place and looking _unbelievably_ smug as he played with his phone and nodded his head in tune to some punk-pop track on the radio she didn't recognise.

 **K-Topia's 90's marathon:** The Offspring: _why don't you get a job._

She signed, but smiled a little at the same time. She'd never even met that officer before, and in the few minuets Nick had been left with him he'd have learnt more about the hippo than she would in a year: say what you liked about the sly fox, he was articulate, and personable, and good at talking to people. It was an excellent skill for a con artist, but not a bad skill for a cop either, she thought as she trotted down the stairs dodging other officers and made it out onto the marble of the ground floor.

Nick spotted her, and lowered his phone and smiled. "Carrots." He said, slipping off the chair he was on, and dropping to the ground with a slightly theatrical wince.

"Ugg, Clawhauser's chair is just _awful._ The ergonomics is off and it's just hard as nails. Guess he must carry his own padding. So, how'd it go?"

Judy Put her paws on her hips, and tapped a foot at him, not sure if she was mad at him or not. In his defence, he had that momentary panicked look that tended to flash across his face in the brief moments when he wasn't looking lazily confident, and he apologised after a fashion.

"Look, Judy, I didn't mean to lay all this on you, just so we're clear on that. I didn't mean to get fired… well… I kind of did, but they were _really_ rude to me, and my boss was stealing, and not even in a clever way, and I wasn't going to stand for that. I mean if you're going to be a criminal you have an obligation to at least be good at it, or it's just embarrassing for everyone and…"

Nick noticed the look Judy was giving him. Not angry, just patiently giving him plenty of time to keep digging his own grave. If anything she seemed to be trying to hide a faint amusement. He paused.

"Sorry… kind of lost direction there for a bit. The point I think I was trying to make was, thank you. You don't need to deal with me, you've got enough on your own as it is, and the fact that you take the time to try and help me out means a lot to me, and I should be more careful in how I repay your trust and-"

"Nick."

"Yes Carrots?"

"Get in Bogo's office before he loses patience and changes his mind." She said, walking. Nick fell in step behind her, walking as he owned the place, as usual.

"Thank you, Nick. For trying. I… I know it can't be easy to you, trusting other people like this. Besides, I have to help you: I'm a cop, it's my job." She said, stopping outside of Bogo's office and gesturing to the door.

"Huh. D'you think anyone's ever told Bogo that?" joked Nick to hide his nervousness as he pushed the door open, wrapping on the glass with his knuckles as he did so.

"I heard that, Wilde." Muttered Bogo, glaring over a thick cream and red casefile. Nick smiled apologetically, and gave a little friendly mock-salute to Clawhauser as he walked across the room to the chair, but Judy did a double take at the sight of the file. Not only was it huge, but ZPD files were colour-coded, active criminal cases should be Manilia, cold cases cream, priority cases red. Red and cream wasn't a combination they used. That was a Department of Homeland Security file. She glanced at the title tag on it: _Operation_ _SafetyNet._

Nick levered himself up onto the chair, and looked around, suddenly realising that there was now no-where for Judy to sit, he shuffled over, and after a moment's hesitation, Judy hopped up. Bogo gave her the briefest of glances as Nick instinctively gave her a helping paw up, but then turned back to the fox, and to Judy's complete surprise treated him as polity and professionally as he treated every other civilian.

"Nicholas Wilde, in recognition of your considerable talents and given our extreme workload in the wake of the _Nighthowler_ incident the ZPD had decided to offer you a one off consultancy contract with regard to a single case. If successful in this, you may be offered a three month, zero hour, no-pension contract at our usual rates, subject to requirements of the department. There is no job security, no fixed hours, no overtime, no holidays, no sick days and no time off in lieu of late payment . It's fourteen bucks an hour, before tax deductions which we will take off for you, paid weekly one week in arrears, and while on this contract you obey any and _all_ instructions given to you by any ZPD officer without hesitation or backsass, or you are fired with no recourse to industrial tribunal and with the rest of that week's wages docked, and you are _not_ covered by the police union. This is not a good job: when they come the hours will be long, but you may go a very long time between cases and may struggle to get enough paid hours to feed yourself. Understood?"

"Understood sir. Still beats bagging groceries."

Bogo glared, and frowned a little at that, but kept his voice calm and professional. Judy realised Bogo kept glancing at Nick's carrot pen, and it was only then that she realised that not only was Nick recording everything, but that Clawhauser had got out an old police interview two-tape deck and was recording. No one was taking any chances with this, it seemed.

"And you understand that you will be a civilian contractor. This does _not_ make you a cop, nor does it in any way guarantee entrance or favourable assessment into the academy?"

"Understood, Chief Bogo."

Bogo got out a contract from his desk draw, made a point of reading it and making Nick sit and shuffle awkwardly for some time, before handing it over.

"Sign here, here and here, Mr Wilde." Bogo said, handing over the contract, while Clawhauser gave Nick a pen as the fox theatrically flailed at pockets trying to find one. "Officer Hopps, this needs to be witnessed, sign here."

Nick finished signing his name with the carrot pen, Judy noticed his signature was both showy and lazy at the same time, abstracted to the point it was barely an N and a squiggle, and she took it and added her own next to it, getting the strangest little tingle as she did so.

 _Not partners quite yet, but one step closer._ She realised.

Bogo took the contract back, glanced at it for a bare nanosecond, and then took his glasses off, and nodded to Clawhauser, who stopped the tape.

Bogo turned to Nick. "Off the record, I still think this is a horrible idea Wilde. You have talent, I'll give you that fox… but why waste it on this? There are other things you could do with your life if you're serious about turning it around."

Nick shrugged.

"So I go and get a nine to five job and then what? With respect, sir, what difference is that going to make to the world? Just give me a go at it. Worst case scenario, you're right and I can't cut it, so you fire me and I try the nine to five. Best case scenario? I just must put some bad guys behind bars and get to be Brave, Loyal, Helpful and Trustworthy and get paid for it. Everyone wins."

Bogo snorted. "Worst case scenario: you put the wrong mammal away with that glib mouth of you, get yourself or an officer killed messily because you're not trained and I have not one but two huge lawsuits I could have avoided hitting the department when we've never been weaker _and_ I have to explain to the press why there are bits of fox spread over five city blocks."

Nick paused, eyes wide and ears back. "Or there's that, I guess."

Bogo snorted. "Too late now Wilde, you're in at the deep end. Not my choice, but frankly right now, it's _all_ deep end." he said, throwing the red and cream case file across the desk. "and whatever else you are, you've already been de-briefed by homeland security after you got caught up with Bellwether, so you've already signed all the relevant non-disclosure and information-protection documents needed for this little doozy, so it saves me taking an officer I actually need off their cases for a week of letting Homeland's spooks spell out all the awful things that will happen if they shoot their mouths off."

"They were very explicit on the _put in a hole and then throw away the hole_ aspect of things." Said Nick, picking up the file and flicking it open. Bogo snorted.

"As if I would get so lucky. You too Hopps: from now on, when he's on the clock, you're his handler. For now, anyway, because you're the only other officer who knows enough about the _Nighthowler_ case already without having to go through a load of classified information BS before Homeland would let you on the case. Seeing as you two were already de-briefed by them, you get this little doozy."

"What is it, sir?" asked Judy, leaning over. Nick instantly lowered the file a little so she could see it more easily: there was a map of central zootopia, and a number of blue spots spread out over it. "Are those-"

"Central transport hubs, rail stations, L train, subway, tram, rodent-tube, major traffic hotspots… looks like every major way in or out of the CBD… is this a list of sites they think might get attacked?" asked Nick, horrified. "I used to sell Pawsicles at half these places, they hit any of these with Nighthowler and I'm either feral or I'm served on toast for someone who is!"

Bogo snorted. " You and two hundred thousand other mammals if they hit them all at once, A fact that had occurred to Homeland security. That's why they've got me stretched thin as filo pastry trying to get drug-sniffing wolves or bears familiarised with _Nighthowler_ and at those locations twenty-four seven, but we just don't have the staff to do it. Fangmire's task force are on fifteen hour shifts as it is, and soon the sick leave will build up as that schedule every single day breaks officers and I won't be able to replace them. So homeland security have been throwing money at a project to fit gas chromatography mass spectra to the existing air pollution monitoring stations all of those sites.

Nick frowned, but Judy got the implication. "Artificial noses?"

Bogo nodded. "Exactly, covering not only the main commercial centre of the city, but all major routes that could be used to move _Nighthowler_ in or out of the city, or from biome to biome: if it is being made within a half kilometre of one of these bad boys, they'll know it."

"I'm sensing a 'but' coming…" said Nick, tuning over a page and looking at a complicated circuit diagram. He shrugged, it was meaningless to him.

"But, they are too damn sensitive: false alarms every five minutes. Worse than useless, because some drone in an office at Homeland security keeps wanting to send the SWAT team to the location each time one of these goes off because some florist who once maybe had some contact with Midia…midia" Bogo squirted at his notes, lip moving as he tried to make out the word.

" _Midnicampum holicithias?"_ Judy helpfully suppled.

Bogo and Nick shared a glance.

"With that damn flower waked past." Finished Bogo, flatly. "So they all got switched off, and until we find a way to filter out the false alarms, the entire system is just a very expensive white elephant."

"Oooh, Sir?" said Clawhauser, raising a finger and wincing. "Um, after last month's _Sensitivity and Community Engagement_ guidelines review, we're not supposed to use that phrase anymore. It could be seen to imply that elephants can't budget correctly and that's a bit, well…"

"Do I look like I care Spots? When I first joined the department they filled my locker entirely with red rags for a joke. When I made lieutenant and got an office of my own, the first day I came it, someone had filled it with discount crockery and made a sign reading 'china shop'! Why do you think I keep giving people teapots for Christmas? Get over it: I had to. No, the artificial nose system is broken, and Homeland were pinning all their hopes on a computer program to statistically analyse the number of hits per day and filter out the chaff and give us some useful data about possible concentrations of _Nighthowler_ and their location in the city. And apparently, it was working very well. It was supposed to go live at the end of the week, Homeland and the DA had already planed the press release. It was supposed to be the first bit of good news the city has had since Bellwether was arrested. "

"What happened?" asked Nick, casually flicking over a page in the file. Sitting next to him as closely as she was, Judy felt all his muscles tense up as he froze stock still.

"That happened." Said Bogo, as Judy sat up a little straighter to get the extra inch of height and see the page Nick was looking at over the lip of the folder: Nick had subconsciously raised the folder back to his own eye height as he read. She gasped.

The photo showed a computer lab: a server farm behind a glass divide and three or four workstations in front of it, comprehensively smashed. And that wasn't the scary bit, the scary bit was that the glass divide between the server room and the main office was covered in claw-marks. There were two close up enlargements pinned to the main photo: the rectangular hole from the missing hard-drive, and a photo of a discarded tranquiliser dart, with proper forensics label and scale bar, and the distinctive ink blue droplets of _Nighthowler_ beading the needle.

"The office of the computer company working on the program, Lucian Industries, current brainchild of Lucian Reams, former cryptography whizz-kid in his teens. Quit working for the defence department to go private on the stock market just in time to lose everything on the dot com bubble, build it back up and lost it again in the credit crunch. Maybe you saw the film, _the Wolf of Wallow Street_? Still has the defence connections and maths degrees to get this contract from Homeland Security, and to keep it secure as possible he kept his team as small as possible, just two other staff, a second mathematician and an electrical engineer to maintain the server farm, a Persian Golden jackal and a Coyote respectively, their files are included. Lucian walked in with the DA to show him the completed program two days ago, found the lab ransacked and the two staff missing. The program is gone, the main hard drive stolen and the paper notes destroyed, both staff missing, room wiped down with bleach, and given how incredibly sensitive this program was, for reasons of operational security they didn't use remote storage back-ups. No plans, no prototype, no backups. One and only one copy of the program, and it's gone and so is two thirds of the brains we'd need to start from scratch. One and only one door in, guard on it at all times and CCTV saw nothing. One window, four stories over a major thoroughfare and no-one saw anything suspicious on the fire escape, window locked from the inside. _Nighthowler_ dart recovered from the scene. No evidence, no leads, no witnesses, and Homeland Security and Lucian himself are prioritizing covering their tails over cooperating with our investigation." Said Bogo, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"And let me guess…" said Nick. "I don't crack it in forty-eight hours, I'm fired?"

Bogo sighed. "I wish. The standard contractors contract isn't that kind to me: you have seventy two hours, and if that fails I can consider if I want to hire you for the full three month contract or not."

Nick frowned, but then jokingly said. "Oh, well no rush then, may as well go and spend the rest of the evening playing pool. Judy, you want to come with?"

"Nick!"

"You're right, that still gives us way too much time. Tell you what Bogo-baby, D'you mind if I call you that Bogo? Twenty-four hours, how does that sound?"

Bogo let out a groan, and put his head in his hands and dropped to the desk, elbows slamming onto the table top.

"Just get out of my office before I have to explain to internal affairs how you managed to walk over a very sharp cattle-grate while wearing a very heavy hat and accidently julienned yourself!" he said, massaging his closed eyes with one hand and grasping for his anti-acids with the other. "Hopps, I swear if I develop a ulcer, I'm naming it after you."

"Huh, guess I'm not getting that teapot for Christmas." Said Nick, helpfully tossing the cylinder of anti-acid into Bogo's searching hand.

"OUT!" he yelled. Nick fled, grinning to himself. Judy saluted, and left at a more respectful pace.

After a long moment Clawhauser stood up, and bushed off his chair prissily to remove some loose fur.

"Well sir, I think that went better than expected."

"If you mean that somehow both the fox and I are still alive, then yes."

Clawhauser hesitated. "I think you're being a little too harsh on Nick, sir. He put his life on the line to help Hopps, sir, even when he could have walked away. And what's more than that, he chose to forgive her after that press conference. His heart is in the right place, sir."

Bogo sighed, but didn't remove his head from his hands.

"Believe it or not, I've never doubted that Clawhauser. That's not my main concern."

"Oh. Then what is, sir?

"That fox stood up to me when I demanded Judy's badge, and you know what? He was right to. Every criticism he pulled out at me was right. He backed her to the hilt. Because more than anything, that's what you do when you're partnered with someone on a case. No, In his heart, he could make a perfectly fine police officer."

"then sir-"

"But." Continued Bogo. "No matter how good he is, he's no Judy Hopps. I worry about her with him, Claws. She's impulsive, and fearless and naïve, and that's a very good way to end up as a name on that memorial in the lobby. She'll grow out of it, but he backs her to the hilt, and that scares me: alone she's a loose cannon, Together? Dynamite. And if they argue again, or if he reverts to crime or washes out of the academy with her pinning so much hope on him, I think it might break her."

"You really think he's likely to revert to crime, sir?"

"You saw he was recording everything on the carrot pen?"

"Yes, well we were recording too so-"

"And yet when he stared searching his pockets for a pen, you automatically gave him one to sign with, which is why he now has _two_ pens and you have none. He's too smart to be a cop. He'll get bored."

Clawhauser checked his shirt pocket, and then laughed.

"Aww, shoot. Little rascal. Come on sir, it's just a pen: that's a harmless joke."

"You see me laughing Claws?" said Bogo. "This isn't a game of cops and robbers. You want to know what really scares me? That he would make an excellent cop, and a great partner for Hopps. And if he does go through the academy and partner her on the force, what then? The two of them take on Zootopia, with Nighthowler out on the streets and everyone from that dammed Ram and Mr Big to the street pushers knowing that they're already mixed up in it and gunning for them?" He said, watching the pair of them as they crossed the atrium, laughing and joking, Judy reaching for the Carrot pen and Nick lifting it jut out of her reach each time she jumped for it. "He'll draw a target on himself if he has to to save her, and she's too good an officer to have to see him killed in the line of duty, Claws. Kinder if he never gets that chance."

He said, glancing at the page he had intentionally left out of the file before giving it to Wilde, he one that said that due to the classified nature of the case and lack of leads Homeland Security didn't believe it to be solvable at all, before shrugging.

"Wilde goose chase." He muttered to himself.


	2. Case one, part two: Not a Sniff

**Earning the badge**

 **Case one: A Class act.**

 **Part Two: not a sniff of a clue.**

Nick twitched an ear, his face not otherwise changing from his default expression of slightly smug patience. That little smile that hinted that he knew more than he was letting on and was just giving you time to make a fool of yourself.

That said, he was beginning to think that the radio in the corner was mocking him with how apt the current song choice was.

 **K-topia's all 90's marathon:** Underworld _Born Slippery._

The ear twitched again. And again, focusing on the scratching nose he could hear.

"Still not changed the ink cartridge on that pen, eh Doc?" he asked, crossing his paws over his chest and adjusting his tie.

"Nein, mein Kugelschreiber ist gebrochen : die patrone ist leer… sorry, the one sentence of German I remember from high-school , and only then because ' _Kugelschreiber'_ is the coolest German word ever. No, the pen's dead: didn't seem much point fixing it." Said the physiatrist, the platypus not even looking up from his doodles as he spoke. "Wasn't planning on writing anything today, and frankly after three full hours of listening to Mister and Missus Xióng argue about their marital problems I doubt I could write anything other than _'Just shut up and have make up sex already'_ if I tried. I mean, it's reached the point where I'm not sure if they even come for the counselling any more or if they've just gotten so used to asking my advice on every _single_ needlessly graphic aspect of their romantic life that they physically can't do the deed without a pep talk from me. Seriously, they make out in their car seconds after getting out the door. Carrol caught Mister Xióng making it way past first base in the waiting room. It's really creepy. Let me give you one piece of life advice Nick, never get mixed up in the love life of Panda's: it's a full time job."

"Woah, way to blow doctor-patient confidentiality out of the water there doc. But I get it, life is messy: heh, guess you don't have the luxury of seeing things in black and white with all your patents."

The platypus looked over his glasses. "One more pun like that and you can leave: I was doing Rorschach tests with them this morning. Have you ever had to show inkblots to a Giant Panda? They spent forty-five minutes bickering about whether or not card five looked like Auntie Li Hong or not. Card five, that's meant to be the easiest to interpret: it's a bat, we only put it in so the shrink gets a momentary break before we all go sex-crazy for card six, done, get over it, next card… sorry. I really hate Ink blot tests: all shrinks do, they're unscientific and over interpretative, but people expect them so if you don't bring them out once in a while they think they're not getting their money's worth. So, you finally have both a legitimate job and a toehold in the ZPD. This consultancy job seems ideal… how does it make you feel?"

Nick drummed his thumbs on his chest for a moment, and then pulled a face.

"I don't know. Angry, I guess, but I don't know why. No, I mean, I kinda do. This job validates me: it shows that I can be more than a shifty, low-life fox, but the mere fact that I had to wait this long in my life and fight this hard to get even that little bit of validation, and the fact that it comes with so many caveats and terms and conditions and that Bogo makes no effort to hide the fact that he wants to see me fail… it actually annoys me more than if he'd just said no, and slammed the door in my face without giving me any job at all. I'm thirty two, and I put my life on the line to save the city, and I'm still being treated like some teen delinquent. I mean, does that sound fair to you Doc?"

The platypus glared. "Did you or did you not open this session with boasting about stealing Clawhauser's pen and then beating him to a rare Gokemon this morning?"

Nick shuffled his shoulders uncomfortably into the couch. "That was different, that was genuinely funny. And it was a charlizzard." He glanced over "Blue team?" he asked.

"I'm a forty year old with two doctorates and a mortgage, and I spend all day listening to other people winge to me about their problems Mr Maulwurf, I'm not going to be running around the city waving my phone around and cheering on the Blue team just because they took a local gym."

"Okay. So what… yellow team dork then?"

"Red, but don't tell anyone. I only joined up because one of my of my patients was complaining she was worried it was having a detrimental effect on her son, so I promised to check it out for her and got hooked, and frankly her son could do with spending more time outdoors. Looking forward to _Sol and Luna_ , but it's just making the time for gaming, you know? So you feel that being offered this job at the ZPD, that no one had to offer you, one that gives you huge freedom to do your own thing and yet still work with the ZPD and that will look great on your academy application, is somehow an insult to you? That's pretty bloody weak there Nick."

"Well, not an insult per say, you know, more sort of…. I don't know. Dismissive. _'here you go fox, fail at this one so we can sweep you under the rug for good'._ Bogo has made it pretty clear that he doesn't want me on his team. I don't know, I guess I feel conflicted about it. The job itself, the fact I could work for the ZPD in any capacity, that I could take cases and solve crimes, is really great, it's a validation, but it, I don't know. It feels like a consolation prize. Like Bogo gave me this job either in the hope that I would fail, or hoping it would shut me up and stop me applying through the academy and becoming a real cop. I don't know why, but I got a pretty good read off Bogo, and this smells like a trap to me." He glanced at the platypus. "Does that sound a really paranoid to you?"

"Do you genuinely believe that the government is trying to steal your bodily essence using weaponised orgone energy harvested from internet porn and administered via chemtrials?"

"No, dear _god_ no. That said, having just started paying taxes I wouldn't put it past them to try to steal whatever they could get, but… no. Just no."

"Then it doesn't sound _really_ paranoid to me. Not compared to the other stuff I hear every day. Just a little bit paranoid, and given your past history, or at least the very few bits you seem willing to talk about, for some reason, despite the fact you're the one paying to do exactly that, I'm hardly surprised. If I was a lifelong criminal I'd certainly distrust the police. So you're saying that it's Bogo and not the job itself that makes you feel angry?"

"I don't know. I'm happy about the job: a lot happier than I would be stacking shelves but it's… I just worry whenever something seems too easy. No, not even that: I worry whenever anything _good_ happens to me: after all the bad things that have happened to me over the years, I've kind of got in the habit of waiting for the other boot to drop. Nothing good lasts, so if something really good seems to be starting, brace yourself and be prepared to run. "

He sighed. "But I'm guessing that's not a healthy attitude to have. But hey, that's why I'm here Doc, get that sort of stuff fixed."

"Yes. Of course, it would be easier if you were more open with me. So, you're not loving Chief Bogo as a boss… how are you feeling about working with Judy? That must be interesting for you."

Nick's eyes shot to the clock in the corner. There was a post-it stuck to the clock face: it just read "JUDY?"

"Wow, that is one elaborate prop to set up on the off chance I'd look there" Said Nick, impressed in spite of himself.

"Thank you. After your last session I wasn't taking chances. So: Judy? Working with her on a case again must bring back a lot of conflicting emotions, considering how the last time you worked together both acted as the catalyst for this more positive outlook in your life, and nearly killed you several times."

"Yeah well hopefully this case won't involve quite so many lunatics who want to turn every pred in the city into a bioweapon. How do I feel about working with Judy? Umm. Proud? Scared? Sort of a proud-scared combo? I have a great emotional connection with her, and I really want to show her that I'm making it work, that I can go straight and stick to it… but part of me is finding it really really hard. I mean, after twenty years of scamming people it becomes almost automatic, and I'd be lying if I said I've gone completely cold turkey. I… I still keep a couple of scams going, and I don't even know _why_ anymore."

"I find that hard to believe mister Maulwurf."

"Ehehe, yeah, hard to believe. I don't know why, but the idea of giving up crime for good _scares_ me. Deeply. But the idea of her catching me being dishonest scares me even more."

"Well, given you've relied on your considerable criminal skills to keep you alive for two decades I'd imagine that giving up that safety net would be considerably stressful, if not mildly traumatic. And as for being afraid of getting caught out, given how much you care about Judy and her opinion of you I'd imagine that having her find you've been engaged in criminal activity or untruthful with her would be extremely traumatic for the both of you. You… you have to go straight sooner or later Nick, the more you put it off, the higher the likelihood of something happening and you getting caught."

"Yeah, yeah I know Doc it's just… something about it terrifies me. And it's not just giving up the safety net. Hell, it' not even that I've define myself by how people see me for so long that being a hustler is a big part of my identity its… I dunno… something more than that. And I'm not sure what it is."

"U-huh? Well, okay. You'll have to work out what it is then, Nick. I can't do any more about it until you do. Of course, it would be easier if you'd just let me know if you're sexually attracted to Judy or not and if that's added an extra element of tension, or exactly why it is you started crime at age twelve, don't think I haven't done the math: you keep saying you've done this for two decades, and you're thirty two. Even growing up downtown, I can't imagine you'd drop into crime at such a tender age if your family life was stable… but I'm not going to press you on that now. We made some progress today, particularly early in the session when we discussed your relationships before you met Judy. What would help me was if you could narrow down your feelings as to why you feel so frightened about giving up the criminal life… tell you what, I want you to keep a diary about this case: every time you feel inclined to do anything criminal, every interaction with Judy that makes you worry, heck, a diary on just anything you feel would be helpful for you to write down just as it pops into your head: get all your feelings down on paper, help you organise your mind so you can go over them at your leisure."

Nick nodded with agreement: this seemed a good idea. "Oooh, and then you read through them and spot what I need to do to quit crime and go straight?" he asked, one ear up and one down as he pointed, hopefully.

The platypus recoiled, horrified. "Good god no! I don't want to read a patient's notes: I don't even read my own! No, that would be incredibly tedious! ' _Dear diary, today I woke up and was still a criminal, still can't decide if I'm sexually attracted to rabbits, felt sad, ate a bagel.'_ Why would I want to read _that?_ Saying you'll read over a patient's notes is like when as a parent when you say you're proud of your child's awful drawing and are putting it on the fridge because you like it: it's just a lie to make them feel better, no one actually _means_ it. I'll skim them to make sure it doesn't just say ' _All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy murder murder kill death'_ two hundred times, but beyond that I'm not that emotionally or professionally invested!

 _"_ No, Nick, the point is that the _act_ of writing it down is itself cathartic: you're getting it all out on paper or on a computer or a phone so you can _stop_ repeating it over and over in your head. Write it down, read it once and burn it, if It'll make you feel happier, I have one patient who does just that with all her bad thoughts, and it's made her far happier and healthier for years. Hell, if you genuinely think you'd benefit from having someone else read it and say what they think, stick it online. _Real mammals of Zootopia_ does an anonymous mental health blogging service that's pretty good at weeding out the trolls and creating an online safe space: if you think people would genuinely be interested and able to offer advice or just send you some love via the internet, go for it; if they don't respond the way you liked you could just call them all rude names and rage quit like in every other online discussion. Do whatever you like with it once it's written down, but the important bit is to write it down for the sake of writing it down. That and don't make me read it: I see you anyway, I'll get the precis. Horde it, burn it, blog it, just _write_ it. We can talk about what it turns up later, but get it written first."

"Huh, okay, if you say doc… but I am _not_ putting it online: I learned pretty early on not to put my feelings out for just anyone, and the only difference between the bullies at my scout meeting and today is that one's today don't have to fear getting caught… and the scouts at least knew what the outside looked like. And besides, if I ever sink low enough and become so desperately needy as to seek approval from strangers online, I'll stick to food blogging or writing trite shipping fanfiction like every other sad talentless hack."

 _"_ Now come on Nick, that's not fair: some of the food blogs are actually pretty good. Okay, that's it. Time's up, clear off; I have other, less criminal patients to see."

"Far enough. Not coaching any hit-mammals through their high-school reunions today then Doc?"

"Not today, but given the perfidious nature of assassins you never know."

Nick snorted back a laugh. "Yeah well if it's anything like pawpsicle hustling, you don't exactly have to keep to office hours. That said, early morning commutes were a gold-mine, tired people seldom think twice about what they're buying. No need to buzz Carol, I'll see myself out Doc."

As Nick passed the clock mounted to the wall, he gave it a quick glance "Huh, you have a step-ladder or something to put that there Doc?" He asked. The clock was far too high on the wall for the platypus to reach, let alone stick a post-it to.

"Oh no: I used my amazing powers of hypnotherapy to Mesmer you into putting it there yourself, and you don't even remember." Said the Platypus, making the Jedi-mind-trick gesture with his webbed fingers. Nick stared Wilde-eyed for a moment.

The platypus held the gaze for a long moment, before cracking a smile.

"Nah, I'm just messing with you Nick, I asked Carol to put it there this morning: after all the bizarre things she's seen working for me over the years, she didn't even question why. Take care Mr Maulwurf, see you same time tomorrow."

"Jeez Doc, don't scare me like that! Anyway, see you around, good luck with you Panda sex and pet assassins! Rather you than me!" he said, swinging the door open and sideling out, leaning back to make a mocking little half-wave half-salute as he left.

The platypus sighed as the door shut.

"Cocky little blighter." He muttered, leaning back on his chair eyes-closed to enjoy the momentary pause before his next patent came in.

His phone rang.

 ** _*Tinny rendition of Tom Lehrer's Oedipus Rex.*_**

The psychiatrist pulled his phone out of his pocket and groaned, before swiping to answer.

"Hello mister Xióng. Look I'd love to chat, but I'm with another patent now and I… U-huh… u-huh… well, maybe she really does have a headache, people get headaches she's not necessarily being evasive and even if she is… I… okay, Put Mrs Xióng on please? Hi so how are you… okay really, with the vibrating clockwork egg? Joss paper? U-huh… wait, wait, I thought you were going to auntie Li Hong's funereal? You were making out _at_ the funeral? And you were _surprised_ to suddenly lose libido? Gee I wonder why. Well perhaps if you considered that perhaps there are some social taboos that exist for a very good reason, and that the initial impulse might have just been a desire to seek contact comfort and do something life-affirming after a funeral, but the operative word there is _after_ so maybe, oh, I don't know _get a room_ or wait for a more appropriate situation to… Okay… okay? Okay so the mood has come back now? _Really?_ Okay glad to help and… and… oh for god's sakes, you two do know you've left the phone on, right? I can hear you!"

* * *

Nick shepherded the real Mister Maulwurf out of the way easily enough, wondering how long he could keep this up before either the Doctor or the Mole cottoned on to the con, and intercepted Carol on her way back into the building, as she hurried back from her lunchtime raid of the local Bug Burger and as he bought a pawpsicle from a street vendor and wondered, briefly, how Finn was doing without him.

"Hey, Carol, how's the kid?" he said, paying the vendor and waving, pawpsicle half-way to his mouth

"Aww, Nick, he's good, thanks for asking." Said the tall she-wolf clutching her purse in front of her prettily and smiling. "How are you? Say, you have time for that lunch I owe you?"

"Love to Carol, but I have errands to run. Maybe another time?" he said, fishing his shades out of his pocket. The wolf laughed, musically.

"Well, okay now, but don't be a stranger." She said coquettishly, and Nick was momentary unsure if she was just being friendly of if she was flirting with him. He put his glasses on to buy time and hide any visual tells she might get from eye contact, and played it cool.

"Hey, come on now, I see you every gosh-darned day. It's not like I'm not going to see you around, you're practically family! Like a sister, or a really, really close cousin!" he said, clasping her paws affectionately and playing the _idiot who couldn't spot flirting_ card for all it was worth: with luck that and the mental image of siblinghood he'd just planted should prevent any further romantic overtures from the she-wolf without hurting her feelings, and if he was miss-reading this and she wasn't flirting the gesture would just seem friendly. He was careful as he did so to keep his pawsicle stick jutting out of his cheek at a goofy angle to make himself seem non-threatening and less sexually desirable. He was flattered, sure, but his feelings on possible cross-species attractions were already _quite_ complex enough right now, thank you very much, and on top of that she was nearly twice his size and probably six to eight times as strong as he was: there's being romantically adventurous, and then there's dying half way up Everest and having your frozen corpse used as a waypoint by later expeditions. Back when he was ten years younger, perhaps, but now a days Nick knew his limits. Fortunately he seemed to have played this one right, because she instantly made a maternal face and even reached down and affectionately kneaded his cheeks like a maiden aunt.

"Dawww, bless, you are so cute I could just eat you up Nick! Well, I have to get back to work, so again, thanks so much for covering for me so I can see my kid, and if you ever need a favour, you know where to find me. Don't hesitate to ask."

"Hey and likewise, if you need anything from me just say so: after all, what are friends for?" he said, smiling sweetly and clasping his paws as he walked away, before waving once with the pawsicle stick and rounding the corner of the block. Judy was parked up waiting for him, with her feet on the dash of the electric ticketing buggy and the radio blaring out Gazelle tracks.

 **Gazelle:** _Whenever, wherever_.

Despite himself Nick smiled to see her, and then hastily hid it as he pulled off the glasses and made an incredulous face, gesturing disgustedly with his pawsicle stick.

"Seriously? You save the city from an evil conspiracy, get a formal commendation for bravery, have a fist-fight on the top of a moving train, and they _still_ expect you to drive that three-wheeled joke mobile?" he asked with mock indignation, walking over and kicking the wheels contemptuously.

"Hey! Don't you be mean to Blinky. I'll have you know me and this vehicle have formed a deep and spiritual connection."

Nick looked from Judy to the cart, once. "Seriously?"

"Nah, I wanted a pursuit vehicle but for some reason Bogo didn't feel that this case was a high priority for the transport pool." She said, scootching over to make room for Nick as he squeezed into the buggy next to her, which he did awkwardly with much contorting and muffled swearing, banging his head on the roof twice before finally managing to get comfortable with his ears just brushing the roof of the tiny vehicle.

"Okay, buckle up." Said Judy strapping herself in.

Nick looked down and sideways at the rabbit. "Seriously, Carrots? A seatbelt? Gosh, I guess I better. Don't want to be thrown out of the vehicle in a high speed crash." He said, conspicuously not buckling up as Judy put peddle to the metal, and the vehicle glided smoothly around the corner and reached its maximum speed of eight miles an hour after a mere minute or so of acceleration. It then stopped, because they had joined the main road and hit mid-town traffic, and at this time of day eight miles per hour was wildly optimistic.

They both sat there for a moment in the blaring horns and traffic fumes.

"Or we could take the subway." Said Nick, after a while.

"And do what, leave the cart abandoned on the sidewalk?"

"Well it's not like anyone would bother to steal it: the mobility scooters at Buy n' Large were faster."

"Yeah, but can they do this?" said Judy, flashing ' _Blinky's'_ blue and red lights. In spite of himself Nick found a very small smile creeping onto his face, which he tried and failed to hide under his usual smirk.

"So… does Blinky have a siren too?" he said.

"Ermm… no."

"Oh…. Some sort of megaphone?"

"Only a regular car horn."

"Oh… that's kind of dull."

They sat for a moment.

"Was kind of hoping for a ' _Nick and Judy are back on the case'_ toot toot there." Said Nick after a while.

They sat there awkwardly for a moment.

"Anyway, so… how was your morning Carrots?" asked Nick.

Judy shrugged. "Got in oh-six-hundred, did some foot patrol with Francine because between the two of us we can work a street: she reaches tall stuff and I fit through normal sized doorways. Caught up on my paperwork then caught breakfast with Clawhauser and Furschia. Ohhh, I've signed you up for the ZPD trip to _Six Fangs:_ Clawhauser said that because no-one's allowed to take leave on labour day or spring break or anytime because we have to police the parades, a load of guys from precinct one take a day at a waterpark off-season because they can get in for free if they renew their first-air training at the same time the lifeguards do. and then ride the rides on the cheap. Technically… as a consultant you shouldn't be allowed, but apparently Bogo never checks the lists and just signs off the first aid training for anyone so I sighed you up. Is _Six Fangs_ any good? I always wanted to go as a kid, but my folks said it was way too far to go, so we always used to go over to the county fair instead or some cheap-o waterpark Deerbrook way instead…"

Nick shifted slightly uncomfortably, and then shrugged, his face expression the same calm passive smug as always and his voice controlled.

"Never been."

Judy glanced over, incredulous. "You've never been? You grew up here, with the best amusement park in the world right on your doorstep and you've never been? Why, do you get motion-sick or something?"

"Only when you're driving, Hopps. I just… I just never went. You're; going to laugh, but when I was a kid I went to museums and things."

"Really? Huh, somehow I never had you down as a good student, I kind of always pictured you playing hooky or something."

"Me? Oh no." said Nick, stating into space, his voice distant. "I never missed a day of school. Not once…." He shook himself, and came back to the present. "But no, never went to _Six Fangs_. Weirdly, when I was younger I imagined I'd like to work at a theme park, bit of fun, some easy cash, you know? Later I figured it could make a good con out of a theme park, running one like an old school carnie. I mean, had a name picked out and everything…. But no, spending a day stuck in line for rides, in winter, with over-price snacks, surrounded by a million cops? I'll pass, Thanks. So other than that a quiet morning for you?" he asked, deftly steering the conversation away from his childhood. "Did our case come up?" he asked, knowing it would distract Judy. She nodded.

"Bogo said we should prepare before we vested the crime scene. I re-read the casefile, we've got to know as much as we can about this case going into it, especially now we've got permission to visit the scene of the crime and interview Mister Remes: since Homeland Security are going to be there, we can't afford any slip ups. You?"

"Woke up at noon and went to the shrink." He said, sucking the last bit of flavour out of the wood of his pawsicle stick. He heard the "Tcha!" and glanced down into a rabbity death-glare.

"What? It's not like that doesn't count as being prepared: I can't turn up tired and crazy, can I? See this is you problem, Fluff, you're just not professional in your dealings compared to the likes of me." He said, leaning on Judy's head as she tried to drive.

The taxi in front of them braked, and Judy slammed her foot down harder than necessary and Nick slid forward off his seat and, arms flailing, fell face first into the Plexiglas windshield at the front of the vehicle, his weight rocking it several times on its single front tire. He stared ahead eyes wide with shock, as a pair of young lams in the back of the taxi in front of him laughed, and took photos on their phone at the funny fox with his cheeks smooshed against the glass with a pawpsicle stick stuck between his ears.

"Opps." Said Judy flatly, with a very faint smirk, as Nick pealed himself off the windshield with as much wounded dignity as he could muster, and sat back down, ears flattened to the sides and pawpsicle stick glued between them.

"Maybe you should have worn your seatbelt." She added.

"You know, rabbit, you are a terrible driver and whatever poor soul had to teach you has nothing but my deepest and abiding pity." Nick said, with his _polite but insincere_ voice, one of the many Nick voices Judy was learning to recognise. "I can only hope they were strong enough to survive the experience, body and soul intact."

"That would be my dad: I grew up on a farm, I've been driving tractors since I was fourteen and I will have just a little less criticism from you mister _I don't know how to drive._ " She said in what Nick thought of as her _annoyingly perky_ voice, as she leaned over and booped his nose playfully to accentuate her point.

"Okay, first up sweetheart." Said Nick, buckling up his belt and wincing as he tried to extract the pawpsicle's sticky stick from his head fur, ears flat and eyes narrowed. "Let's get some ground rules established about the nose: No booping without my express permission, Carrots, I'm gonna be smelling those kale-chips you had for lunch all week now, and secondly, I know how to dive, I just don't have a licence: licences cost money and require background checks. I had the license to act as a street vendor and move goods, Finnick had the driving licence, that way it spreads the costs and spreads the risk should some overly-keen junior cop on her first day out of Podunk decide to shut us down." He glanced sideways, leaning on the back of the tiny seat, eyes half closed. "Bunnnyburrow, I know: Podunk is in Deerbrook County." He said, just as she raised a paw to object.

"-and I'm on that, I'm doing an hour on the driver's theory test each day, I'll get that and take the practical test the next week." He said, with all the confidence and dignity a mammal could muster while battling with a mighty red wood. With a space.

"Oh, look at you mister confidence." Said Judy, jokingly, as she merged with some faster traffic. "You're pretty confident you're going to pass first time?"

Nick shrugged, looking in the rear view mirror to see how badly the stick had stuck. "I've been driving since I was twelve, trust me. My first job was as a driver."

Judy snorted "Yeah right, who hires a twelve year old as a driver?"

"Mister Big" said Nick, finally extracting the pawpsicle stick with a wince, and then gasping with shock at the tuft of red-brown fur that had come off with it, gingerly feeling his head for any new bald spot.

Judy rolled her eyes. "Oh, mob ties by age twelve, I guess that explains why you were in the high stakes game of pawpsicle hustling and occasional skunk-rugs when I met you. You know, I'm not even sure I want to know _how_ you got enough skunk butt fur to make a rug, but at least I'd believe you on that one."

"Firstly, not one of my proudest moments Carrots, and secondly I'm not messing with you: my first job was driving cars for Mister Big."

"You were mister Big's driver? At age twelve? Yeah, right."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Okay, firstly I was not _his_ driver, being the boss's driver is a highly prestigious job, you're around him almost all the time, privy to his secrets and comings and goings, people literally kill to become the boss's driver, it's one of the established sure fire ways to rise to the top and become next don, that's why mister Big has always used drivers from outside of the family: putting someone like Manchas who's not even a shrew in that position stops any ambitious shrew looking to rise thought the ranks from using that tactic and makes Mr Big safer from leadership challenges. I was not _his_ driver, I just drove cars _for_ him, no one was ever in them at the time... in hind sight I should have found that way more suspicious than I did, but I was a kid and you live and learn. And secondly, you missed our turning: you wanted to hang a left onto Baobab west and skirt the CBD, because now we're stuck in a one-way street leading to the midtown-central contraflow system and we'll need to shoot all the way past Park and second before we get off." Said Nick, tossing the pawpsicle stick casually out of the vehicle and into a waiting trash can as they drove past the turning without even slowing down.

"Huh?" Judy looked over her shoulder at the missed turning, and swore… after a fashion.

"Oh….. biscuits! How did you even?"

"Like I said, been driving here since I was twelve. See, all that police training is great, but unless you've got the native Zootopian's instincts, farm girl, you may as well not bother with the midtown maze-"

Judy saw a gap in traffic, and swung the tiny electronic buggy around, lights flashing, and shot into an alleyway, way, _way_ too narrow for any other vehicle. It happened so suddenly that Nick involuntarily dug his claws into the dash, his face a terrified rictus as they sped down a tiny space redolent of multi-species urine between two brown-stones, so close to the walls that Nick had to tuck his elbows in to stop them getting sanded off by the brickwork and leaving him smeared across it like just another layer of graffiti.

"Um, Judy, angry people angry people _angry people!"_ Nick yelled, reaching up a paw and grabbing the ceiling with shock as they bore down on two wolves who Nick was sure he didn't want to cross or in any way interrupt from the no doubt totally legal thing they were doing involving passing small sealed bags between each other and muttering. The two not-dealers saw a flashing blue light bearing down on them, and with expressions of stupefied shock that Nick would later, in hindsight, when he'd stopped having heart palpitations, admit were pretty funny, the two wolves jumped over a low fence to avoid getting run down by the avenging might of the ZPD. A few seconds later one of them realised that they'd miss-judged both the size and speed of the approaching vehicle completely and peered curiously over the fence just in time to pull his head back as Judy zoomed past at a whole eight miles an hour and popped out into a main street and smoothly merged back into traffic as if nothing had happened.

After a few moment of normal, sedate driving, Judy looked to Nick, smugly. He was contorted into almost exactly the shape Wile E. Coyote made in the bottom of canyons, and looked about as happy with the situation. After a moment he pulled his claws out of the ceiling and dash with a noticeable ripping noise.

"Ah, Grapecount lane." Said Judy, cheerfully " Formally Grope… Ahem… Grope-you-know-what lane until the street names were officially cleaned up by the Public Morality Act of 1790, and still colloquy called by the old name until a peace officer was posted there every night to prevent mammals of negotiable affection congregating there in 1880." Said Judy. "Cuts between Ann street, width of ten feet, and Baobab west, which we are now on. Alleyway was the site of the particularly brutal murder of famed Robber-Barron financier 'Jubilee Jim' Frisk in 1872. A neat little short-cut that not everyone knows about, but being such an old street with such a colourful criminal history, it does show up a lot in police training manuals… city slicker."

Nick stared at Judy for a long time, and then grinned. "Not bad, Carrots, I'll make a native Zootopian of you yet."

"Eh, Do I have to support any of your awful sports teams if I become one?"

"Well, you're a cop, so no you just have to bet on them in between running barely-legal sweepstakes on the local criminals' odds of survival. By the way, what am I getting?"

"Nick, no one is betting on your odds of getting killed! That's so insensitive! … Five will get you eight that you wash out of the academy and die miserable and alone, but no one specified the _time_ of death. "

"Put me down for twenty, I'm good for it. And come heck or high water, I'll make a Zootopian out of you yet Hopps. The country girl act is _cute_ and all, but if you're going to live here you need to fit in." he said, stressing the word cute because he knew it annoyed her and he wanted to get a rise out of her after the fright she gave him with the alleyway.

"Well, okay. But only if I can take you to Podunk and teach you to square dance." She said, glancing sideways with an innocence so unnaturally perfect it almost hid her sly smirk. _Busted._ He couldn't help but smile back.

"Uggg, how dare you. Foxtrot?"

"Split the difference, slick-Nick, Lindy hop?"

"Done." Said Nick, as Judy pulled up to their destination, and got out of the buggy, eyeing up the building and tapping her paws thoughtfully.

"You have been: I can't stand square dance." She said, shielding her eyes and glancing up. The lab was located about hallway up one of the city's older flatiron buildings: Zootopia had hundreds, due to the attempts of various city planners of different species and sizes to put everything on a rational grid of sensibly proportions streets, without first consulting with each other as to what "sensible proportions" were or what direction the grid should be aligned. This was where Mid-town's canine-designed, we-can-sense-magnetic-north-and-like-the-close-confines-of-forest grid of narrow Victorian streets and alleyways intersected with the central business districts 1910's elephant-designed grid aligned on true north, with far wider streets. The thirty degree change in street alignment turned every other building on the northern side of Baobab west between the river and second avenue into an art nouveau flatiron, and later civil planers' attempts to rationalize the street-plan had made the situation even more or a riot of architectural palimpsests of every conceivable style. It was a very pretty and historical neighbourhood, but hardly an auspicious or conventional place to put a high tech start up, and Judy said as much to Nick.

Nick shrugged, climbing out of the buggy and stretching and yawning, only slightly bumping his head on the buggy's roof.

"Tesla died penniless in the hotel across the way, maybe he's one of these tech-gurus who wants to pay homage to the old masters? Or maybe he's sleeping with the landlady, who knows? Let's find out." He said, ambling towards the lobby. About half way there he snorted, and shook his head in mock exasperation.

"Oh, yeah. Would never have guessed that there was a department of Homeland Security operation running here." He said, walking past six identical mid-range dark-blue motor-pool stationwaggons parked with scant disregard for ticketing regulations.

"Totally not a bunch of feds about." He said, glancing meaningfully at the extra radio antennas on the cars and the visible police frequency scanners on the dash of each one, before glaring at the florists van parked on the corner: that corner had a one hour parking limit, and yet there was a visible drift of windblown trash accumulating up against the offside tire, several days' worth. And florists vans were usually refrigerated, so it helped hide the air-con and coolant system for the surveillance and coms gear growing out of the roof unless you knew to look for it.

"Personally I'd have gone for a refrigerated seafood delivery van, mask the scent of the guys on the stake-out better than flowers, because who wants to sniff too hard at old fish, but the principle is the same I guess. I mean seriously, if I was on the hustle and I saw that lot, I'd walk on past and try someplace else. Hardly subtle, Carrots"

"Yes, that's the point." Pointed out Judy. "That's not a stakeout, that's a deterrent. Besides, firstly, these guys at Homeland aren't trained as cops, they think differently to us. And secondly, the place had already been robbed. There's nothing left to take, I'd guess the surveillance van is just to pick up on anyone who shows an unusual interest in the scene of the crime."

They stood there for a moment.

"So… like us?" asked Nick.

"Well, you have been giving them your shiftiest glare for a full ten seconds now. Come on, let's go introduce ourselves." She said, walking towards the main entrance. As she did she noticed the window on the surveillance van wind down a touch, and the brief glitter of a telephoto lens catching the sun. She was suddenly surprised to realise it was following her, not Nick. Nick, walking along behind her with his usual casual slant, shifted his half-open eyes between it and her briefly, and then permitted the ghost of a smile on his lips for a moment .

"It's okay, Hopps, they're probably just frightened that you're going to ticket them. "

"Ha ha. Clearly I'm just more photogenic than you are." She said, trying to hide the sudden flutter of nerves as she realised she was about to stick her nose into a federal origination's case and was expected to hold her own.

"Well, am I a model? No, no I am not. I think I'd still look pretty good on a bikini shoot tho'." He said jokingly, walking backwards for a pace or two swishing his tail seductively and clutching both paws together under his chin in a vapid, simpering gesture to lighten the mood as he sensed the note of nerves in Judy's body language and smelt the spike in her stress hormones. "That do you think, Judy? Homeland security's surveillance-photo calendrer, I could be miss June! No, wait, with my colouring? Definitely Miss October. Quick, Judy, call you folks: I need a Gingham dress and a pumpkin, stat!"

Judy laughed, and shoved him away playfully. "Nick, not now, this is serious!" she said, smiling as she hit the video intercom for the lab "We need to make a good impression! Hi there, this is officer-"

"Officer Judy Hopps." Said a curt female voice, with a hint of accent. " And the consultant, Mr Wilde isn't it? We've been expecting you. Glad you could finally make it." The voice said, flatly, before the door _clunked_ open with the sound of some very serious locks undoing themselves behind the brass and glass of the door, and the intercom buzzed them in. Both Nick and Judy noticed that while the video intercom showed them a view of themselves, letting them know they were being filmed, the other side of the screen stayed ominously blank.

"Okay… not spooky at all." Muttered Judy, a little put out.

"Why? We had an appointment, they knew we were coming." Said Nick, squinting suspiciously at the intercom, before shrugging and pushing through the door, holding it open for Judy after him. She ducked under his arm.

"Yeah, but Chief Bogo thought that after the whole train-hijacking thing they might not want to meet with us if they knew it was, well, us. The appointment just said an officer and a consultant: Bogo never gave out our names."

Nick paused, his ears drooping suspiciously and his muzzle wrinkling.

"Well that's just unsettling." He murmured to himself, before shrugging. "So I guess the guys in the van have facial resignation software, perfectly sensible explanation. See, Hopps, these government types like to create this mystique, this aura that they know more than they do. Its basic mind games, that's all. There's nothing spooky about it…"

"Actually, it's not facial recognition software: I just recognised you from the de-briefing phots after the Nighthowler incident." Said the voice. Nick yelped with shock, fur standing on end and tail fluffing up, and he looked around shoulders and arms raised but head and ears ducked, trying to see where it was coming from.

"Okay, now _that_ is spooky! You bugged the hallway?"

The voice sighed. "No, you just leaned on the intercom on your way past. Floor four, Mister Wilde, I'll tell the security guard you're here, just give him your names and leave your phone and any other electronic recording devices with him." There was the brief crackling clattering noise you got from someone hanging up an old fashioned landline phone, and perhaps the very briefest _sotto voce_ muttering in Spanish, which sounded suspiciously like _Zorro Tonto_ to Nick.

"Hey, did spooky intercom lady just call me dumb?" he said, glaring.

Judy shrugged. "Maybe she was just talking about old westerns." She said mockingly to Nick, ducking under his arm holding the door, and taking the stairs two at a time: the elevator was out of order, Nick noted, before glancing sidewise just in time to see Judy's tail-skutt eagerly bouncing up the stairs and around the corner out of sight. He cocked his head on one side briefly, ears up, before smiling very briefly and following her.

"Hi-ho silver away." He muttered, grinning to himself as he made his way up the stairs at a far more leisurely pace, taking the time to get his phone out, put it into flight mode an lock it in case anyone tried any funny stuff with it while his back was turned and, almost subconsciously, slip the carrot pen out of his breast pocket and deep into the rear pocket of his pants where it was less noticeable.

After three flights of steps, he was beginning to think that the elevator being broken was the best security the place could have, because with winding 1900's stairways no one was making up to the fourth floor quickly, easily and without getting seen on every landing, all of which had modern CCTV. Nick glanced sideways lazily at the floor layout and fire-evacuation plans on each landing, noting that the building had an external fire escape on one side, and that the fifth floor was almost totally empty with no companies registered on it. He paused, and walked over to a window, taking his time to look at the design. The original sash windows had been replaced with modern PVC evacuation windows, with a single large L shaped handle of the sort with the kea on a little button in the centre that you pushed down to lock and unlock.

He opened a window on the second floor, and looked out. The building had been designed by elephants, specifically for megafauna. High ceilinged rooms, each floor twice the height of a standard floor, so the six story building was closer to a twelve stories in height, even on the second floor like he was now, it was a long way down, a dead drop to a basement hatch in an alley below him. That said, the window still was wide as a city crosswalk, and with all the Art Nouveau flourishes to the exterior brickwork, he could comfortably walk from one still to the next and go right around the exterior of the building until he got to the fire escape if he needed too, and he a strictly terrestrial mammal, and not in great shape. A climbing mammal would be up and down with no trouble.

Judy popped her head through the marble banister columns a floor above him. "Nick, hurry up! You're keeping the feds and a tech millionaire waiting!"

"Coming. And I bet he's not a proper millionaire: he's going to be one of those lame, trendy ones who wears turtlenecks and second hand jeans to paly make-believe that he's just one of the guys like everyone else. Bet you a dollar." He said, closing the window, and noticing that with the evacuation windows design, you needed to rotate the handle through 90 degrees from vertical to horizontal to lock it. Just closing the window wouldn't lock it, you needed to turn the handle, and there was only a handle on the inside. He paused, and dropped into a squat, hands on his thighs and balancing with his tail, and put his muzzle very close to the close at the bottom of the closed window. After a moment he smelt traffic exhaust and felt a very faint breeze on his whiskers.

He smiled at that, very briefly, and then walked up to the next landing where Judy was waiting for him. As he did, Judy flicked her eyes sideways and jerked her thumb over her shoulder. He glanced over between Judy's ears, and then nodded. The third floor offices were full, completely full, and judging by the drift of old _United Zootopia Foundation_ donut boxes building up outside the doors, the very, very new looking additions to the CCTV he was thinking cops. Given the number of large preds and other Megafauna he could see through the glass window of the door in a wide variety of cheap suits with suspicious bulges under the left arm, it looked like Judy had just found where Homeland security were running their investigation from. Heck, the office was even registered to the same fake florist company as the surveillance van outside. He and Judy watched for a moment, and them shrugged and walked past: the Homeland Security agents in the room were all far too busy to notice them.

Nick and Judy walked up to the fourth floor. "I mean." Said Nick. "Call me old fashioned, but I like a bit of conspicuous consumption when it comes to my social betters: Rolexes and sharp suites and silk waistcoats. At least there is an honesty to that, none of this patronizing false modesty bull-hooie.

"Right… and the fact that it gives dishonest sneaky types like you more to steal is just, what? A bonus?"

"A perk, and Judy I'm offended, I don't steal… it takes all the fun out of it, like fishing with dynamite, it's just too easy. I leave that stuff to Finn. I sell: Ideas, fantasies, false hopes, when that fails frozen fruit flavoured water, sure. But the point's the same. Nah, I just like rich people to look rich: give the rest of as an idea who to grab and prop up against the wall come the revolution."

"You, for a start. And besides, you're joining the police now, so come the revolution we're both stuck." Said Judy. "I mean, I'm glad you're on my team."

"Really?" asked Nick.

"Oh yeah: I can't trust you out of my sight, clearly."

Nick snorted back laughter. "Hey Carrots, does it actually feel good, getting up in the mourning and going round and oppressing the poor downtrodden proletariat?"

"Sure it does Nick, but gosh, it's so hard: they just won't stop fighting and nicking stuff." She said, intentionally choosing the work _nicking_ for theft as he knew it annoyed Nick due the similarity to his name, but she still got a laugh out of him. "And didn't you make one point four million dollars tax free, mister downtrodden?"

"Workers of the world, untie!" said Nick, mockingly giving a raised fist salute.

"Untie?"

"I never finished middle school, cut me a break. I'm probably dyslexic you know, mocking me for it is technically police brutality."

"Right… you do know that to count as a worker you actually have to do _some_ work, right?"

"See, Carrots, it's pessimism like that that keeps the one percent on top."

"And it's attitudes like that which is why communism doesn't work." Said Judy as she turned in towards the office registered to Lucian Remes, and then realized that Nick was still patiently plodding along, making his way up the stairs to the fifth floor. Judy paused, ears shooting up with surprise, and then backtracked rapidly, one paw resting on the corner of a banister support, before scurrying up the stairs up after him.

"Ummm, Nick? You missed our stop."

"Did I?" he asked, paws on hips theatrically, turning on the spot with head held high, checking out the ceiling.

"Wow, this is one nice building! Spacious, well proportioned, nice Nouveau flourishes… I mean look at that? It's that just the nicest set of cornice mouldings you have _ever_ seen? Well gosh darn. And the light fittings, aren't they to die for? I can see why they chose to keep then rather than re-wire this floor for modern electronics."

Judy paused, recognising the tone of voice as the same one Nick had used at tundra town motors, over the top in sounding sincere and helpful just to emphasise how he wasn't. She paused, and turned slowly on the spot taking in the room eyes widening as she saw what he was angling at.

"Oh sweet cheese and crackers… they didn't want to damage the coving on the ceiling so they never fitted CCTV to this floor, heck, with the old writing it would take a fortune to even if they wanted…"

"So they just covered the stairwell up to floor four, where the lab is. The top two floors are security free, and practically deserted. Half of this building's not covered by their security: if you can think of a way in that's not the main stairway, you've practically got the run of the place Carrots." Said Nick, smiling. He cocked his head on one side, clenched a paw to his chin and crossed the other over his chest gripping his elbow and looked at her contemplatively for a moment, and then nodded thoughtfully, and said.

"Got it in one. You know, I actually think you'd make a pretty good cop." He said, mockingly.

Judy put her paws on her hips and glared at him, trying not to smile at how that was actually pretty funny, before her eyes flickered over the fox's shoulder for a moment.

"And miss out on my lifelong dream of being a Pawpsicle hustler living under a bridge? Besides, this building isn't that great… elevator is busted." She said, nodding. Nick turned, and leaned sideways to see past some dust-cover coated furniture and glace down the hallway at what she was indicating.

Not only was the elevator busted, but on this floor it had been blocked off by one of those little velvet ropes between two stands. Behind that there was a large out of order sign, and the door itself had been criss-crossed with hazard tape, and for good reason: the door on this floor didn't shut properly, and you could see right into the elevator shaft.

"So, slick Nick, what's your guess that the CCTV they do have doesn't cover the elevator shaft?" she said, taking a photo of the elevator doors with her phone to send to the crime lab, as well as the floor around it, which she noticed had been cleaned recently, which was odd given the rest of the fifth floor was deserted. _Eliminating footprints left in the dust, Covering scent, or just a coincidence?_ She shrugged, crime lab would want to look, but any evidence was probably long gone by now. She leaned over and peered down the elevator shaft: there was a maintenance ladder, rungs built into the side of the elevator shaft. She got a photo, stood up, and cocked one paw on her hips and she walked off, gesturing with her phone as she trotted back down the stairs.

"Surprised you didn't notice it… you know if you were a little more observant, you'd almost make a good criminal." She said, cheerfully, as her tail disappeared around the corner of the stairway. "Almost."

Nick stood there for a moment, mouth opened and ears flat with incredulous surprise before, ears still flat, he smiled briefly and gave a little "Huh. Girl's getting cocky… must be having a bad influence on her." He said with some pride as he followed her down the stairs.

Back on the fourth floor, Nick caught up with Judy standing in front of the door marked "Remes' Industries Inc", paw just hovering over the door handle. At first he thought she was waiting for him to catch up, before he noticed the underlying taint of Adrenaline and Cortisol hovering about her as she straightened her uniform a touch nervously, and bit her lip, nose twitching.

"Hey there Carrots, you planning on going in, or is planting yourself there like a tree a farm-thing?" he said jokingly, putting his paw on the handle, completely engulfing hers. She looked up, and he took his paw off and leaned on the door, paw in his cheek, crossed his legs and looked down at her, smiling encouragingly.

"Judy: you're the most natural cop I've ever met. You were born to do this, come on, these guys have nothing on you, are you gonna be overawed by a few feds? Because I can tell you, when you meet them up close the only difference between them and the guys you see every day in the ZPD will be that they have an even lousier attitude, and bad suits that scream cop but don't look as good as real uniforms." He said, reaching for the handle again. "Besides, it's pointless worrying that they won't like you: it's the federal government, they don't like anybody, but they'll hate me a lot more, so you're onto to a win-win from the start." He said, turning the handle and opening the door and inch, before gesturing gentlemanly. "Ladies first."

Judy smiled, and laid a palm flat on the door. "Cops first: I am your handler, after all." She reminded him. "And thanks Nick… sorry, it's just years of movies, tv, and the academy…. I guess I've just psyched myself up into believing that the feds are going to be far, far cooler than normal cops."

She said, pushing open the door.

She paused.

There was an anteroom, little more than a bit of corridor sub-divided from the original elegant 1910's room by simply sticking up some drywall and painting everything off-white, and a desk was dropped in front of the one other door at the other end of the corridor, with a huge Rhino rent-a-cop stuck behind it, vaping like he had a grudge against air. He had a small LCD screen, a collection of donut boxes that would have shamed Clawhauser, and was headbanging away to his headphones and reading what looked like an adult magazine called Tailcurler. After staring for some time it became apparent he hadn't noticed them.

Judy and Nick stared for a moment, Judy ears high with shock and Nick with his default passive smugness.

"Wow, well, I for one am completely overwhelmed by the fed's coolness." Said Nick, leaning in and speaking out the side of his mouth. "I mean, he has _far_ classier stains on his shirt than the rent-a-cop at the mall. Is that Dijon? Fancy. "

Judy elbowed him in the ribs, and then walked up to the Rhino, waving.

"Hi there! Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD, and Mister Nick Wilde, ZPD consultant! We're here to… ummm. Errr…Hello?" she asked, fingers curling in on themselves. The guy was still utterly, utterly unaware of her presence, and was really going for it with the headbanging and air drums.

 **Metallica:** St Anger.

Judy snorted, and turned to Nick, paw on hip. "Tcha! Can you believe this Guy?"

"Yeah I know, I would have gone with the _Ride the Lightening_ album personally, but I guess there's no accounting for taste." He glanced at the other door, and then back to the guard. "On the other hand, that door needs someone to buzz us through or we're going no-where, so I guess he doesn't exactly need to be valedictorian material, just too big to overpower."

Judy snorted, ears flat, and rapped on the desk with her paw. The Rhino's ears shot up, briefly, and he looked around, catching Nick's eye and glaring, as if wondering how he could knock from way over there. Nick made a helpful "down there" pointing gesture, and the Rhino slipped his headphones off and looked down.

Judy grimaced but managed to put on her best polite and professional smile, and even Nick had to say, having seen her keep it up while he straight up verbally abused her the day they met, he realised that she was actually fantastic at the social side of policing too.

"Hi there, I'm-"

"Look, if it's about the parking, I just work here, if they're still on that no stopping zone, you're gonna have to talk to the Homeland guys downstairs."

"Ahaha… no, actually, I'm an officer." She said, flashing the badge. "Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD, and Mister Nick Wilde, ZPD consultant. We have an appointment about the-"

The Rhino pulled a clear plastic tray out from under his desk, and dropped onto the surface in front of her.

"No phones, cameras or other recording devices in the lab, No mp3's, flash drives or other data storage devices, no firearms or other weapons. Put them all in the tray." He said, staring straight ahead listlessly with hooded eyes.

Judy put her phone and police airwave com's set into the tray, along with the baton she wore across the side of her belt: it was her second day back, Furschia hadn't cleared the backlog of paperwork for her tazer and dart certificate yet. Nick came along and dropped his phone in as well, and then pulled out his key chain, which had a tiny, two inch long at most, Swiss army knife on it, and started very painstakingly unthreading the tiny key loop from the main one, tongue out of the side of his mouth and eyebrows furrowed with concentration. The Rhino watched him with a dead, dull resignation for the first few seconds, and then begun to droop as he realised just how long this would take. After an age Nick dropped it into the tray with every sign of contented satisfaction at a job well done, before leaning back to relax, sticking his paw deep into his back pocket as he did so and setting the pen to record.

"You know, that's not legally considered a weapon: pocket knives with a folding, not spring loaded, blade and blade length of under three inches are specifically exempt from the offensive weapons act 1993 revision and the concealed carry act 2010 revision." said Judy after a moment in her most helpful voice, because once you've memorised the penal code it sometimes just leaks out at awkward moments like that.

"Really? Oh well in that case give me a sec and I'll put it back on again." said Nick, reaching for it all innocence, and it was only then that Judy realised he'd only taken it off his key chain to waste time and troll the rhino in the first place.

The Rhino snorted, and pulled the tray away from Nick before he could and locked it in a small safe built into the desk using a key on a retractable belt fob. From her low vantage point peering around the side of the desk, Judy noticed a couple of trays already in there, each with sleek polymer handguns: two large and one sub-compact, and three older-model BlackBearies with federal crests on the backs. She also noticed the huge break-front holster strapped to the underside of the desk, and that the Rhino's foot was holding down a peddle, a dead mammal's switch for the silent alarm: the security here wasn't as slack as she'd first assumed.

The rhino grunted and glared at her as he spotted her looking, and slid his chair sideways to block her view of the safe as he shut it and mashed a number into the keypad on the safe door: clearly it needed his key and a combo to lock and unlock, and his attempt to cover up the keypad was a nice touch, but redundant as with her hearing and a standard touch-tone pad she'd got the number when he first opened it. She glanced to Nick, who was standing with his paws folded behind his back and eyes staring innocently at the ceiling and ears swept back, so very clearly not-listening she had no doubt he'd got it too.

 _God, Nick, whistle casually while you're at it._ She thought, annoyed. He could at least _pretend_ to take the rhino guard seriously.

The guard grunted, and said "Look at the camera please." He said, gesturing the webcam mounted to the small screen by the corner of his desk. Judy and Nick both glanced at it curiously as a little red LCD on it flickered, and then turned green with a _ping._

The rhino peered at his screen, and nodded, satisfied that Nick and Judy's picture and time of arrival had been logged and uploaded to the off-site server, before swivelling the webcam around to him, and holding it to his eye as it ran the biometrics.

"Chris Wijd: my voice is my passport. Verify me."

There was a _clunk_ and the doors behind them locked as the open in front of them popped open, taking both Nick and Judy by surprise as she hadn't realised there was an airlock arrangement. Her estimation of the security of this place went up another notch.

"Ohhh… fancy." Said Nick. "Hey, computer, Open the pod-bay doors, please."

The guard glared, as the computer beeped angrily registering an unauthorised voice.

"Nick, it's not Siri, stop playing around with it." Muttered Judy pushing the door open. Nick followed her at a respectful distance, paws still behind back and daintily stepping around the glaring Rhino, as he surreptitiously sniffed the air. Chlorine bleach, hot electronics, Male wolf, no doubt Lucian Remes, male Kudu, male Clouded Leopard, both reeking of donuts and gun oil and dismissiveness, and only one female in the room, no doubt the mysterious scary intercom lady, wearing just the right about of good quality woody, iris based _Eau de toilette_ to be understated and not overcompensate, and Nick couldn't help but smile.

In Zootopia, anyone could be anything… but still, that just meant that if you wanted to be anything other than the base stereotype you had to work so hard at it you just became a caricature at the other end of the spectrum.

Judy pushed open the inner door, and did a quick cop's once-over of the room without even realising she had, instantly flagging three of the four people there as potential treats based on the way they stood and wore their suit jackets, before remembering that this was homeland security and they had perfectly legitimate reasons to wear shoulder holsters.

A Clouded Leopard and a Kudu in mid-price suits were standing closest to the door, talking to each other in low tones and blocking the doorway in a way that she was ninety-percent sure was alpha male, exert dominance through control of space tactics, but could have just been due to the fact that it was the only place to lean on things without contaminating the crime scene. They didn't seemed to have noticed her, but the clouded leopard looked over at the door as it wondering why it had opened, glancing right over her and Nick. Inside the room a bored thirty-something Wolf wearing skinny jeans and a second hand jacket over a geeky t-shirt with a slogan she didn't recognise played with his phone while a female skunk in what she realised with a start was a genuine late 80's Preyda power-suit in dusky purple, shoulder pads and all, stood tapping her foot impatiently. She was the only one of the four openly wearing her badge, breast pocket, and the only one to notice Judy at the door.

Judy stepped forward, and coughed noticeably to draw the attention of the three larger mammals in the room, raising a hand in greeting.

"Um, Hi I'm-"

The clouded leopard looked down, and immediately begun to move toward her, smiling but also lowering his paws in, what she judged, was an entirely unconscious shooing gesture.

"Oh, Hi there. Look I'm sorry, but this is a restricted area and we're expecting someone, look, if this is about the parking then I suggest you take it up with the agents on the floor below, or failing that call your supervisor or the ZPD, you see we have federal permits to park there so, miss, if you could please exit the room, this is an active crime scene and-"

The wolf snorted, and the skunk rolled her eyes in clear exasperation before interrupting the leopard.

"Carl, look at her damn uniform."

The leopard paused. "Huh?"

Judy took this point to cut in. "Eheh, actually, she's right. I am an officer," she said, flashing her badge. "Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD. Mister Nicholas Wilde, private consultant." She said, as Nick sidled up to her, something he did in preference to mere walking whenever he could, and gave a sarcastic wave, his laminated consultant's ID banging of his chest where he'd hung it around his neck.

The leopard paused, looking horrified and embarrassed, but just for the very smallest moment before laughing it off, and reverting to buff, brash Federal officer immediately as he rallied and began to dismissively exert dominance again.

"Haha, sorry honest mistake. An officer? Wow you must be very proud. Mammal Inclusion Initiative?" he asked, pointing, head on one side questioningly, before seizing on the momentary pause and panicked look on her face and following up with. "Of course you are. Well, glad to see you're finally here, honest mistake, glad you're not offended. "

Nick frowned. "She never _said_ she wasn't." he said, moving half a pace forwards. Neither the Leopard of Kudu seemed to notice as the leopard made introductions.

"Homeland Security: Transportation Security Administration, heading up the _SafetyNet_ protocol. I'm Special agent Johnson, this is agent Johnson." He said, waving to the Kudu.

"No relation." Added the Kudu.

"Nice to meet you… so why _exactly_ did you assume I was a meter maid?" said Judy. The leopard either didn't hear or pretended not to.

The leopard then turned and nodded respectfully to the wolf. "Lucian Remes, CEO of Remes industries."

"Seriously, I'm not even wearing the high vis tabard." Muttered Judy, as the wolf gave her as quick glace up and down and the instinctive sniff she'd learnt to expect from canines.

"Or the hat, which is incredibly cute by the way." Said Nick, glancing meaningfully at Remes's second hand smart-casual clothing and holding out a paw. Judy groaned, but gave him a dollar bill with bad grace.

"I mean, we _were_ on the late show." Companied Judy. "How does no one remember?"

The Clouded leopard then turned back to Judy, hesitated as if remembering something, and then waved a paw vaguely in the skunks direction.

"And that's just ZG, she's on permeant loan from the Bureau."

The skunk glared, a low, slow glare that Nick and Judy both recognised as belonging to someone who had had that dismissive treatment so often than they'd either developed a coping mechanism years ago, or were already stockpiling ammunition and pipe bombs. If Bellwether taught anything, it was that the ones without that look were the ones you needed to watch out for.

Nick's coping mechanism was sarcasm, Judy's hyper-competence. Nick wondered, vaguely, what hers was.

Both, as it turned out.

"Special Agent Elena Zorilla-Gutierrez, on indefinite secondment from the Bureau to Homeland Security: after the latest series of administrative foul-ups, someone finally decided it wouldn't hurt to have someone with actual investigative experience holding the Transportation Security Administration's paw. For what good that does." She said, coming up to Judy and unlike the others actually taking the time to shake her and Nick's paw. Judy braced herself for and was neither suspired nor disappointed by the attempt to crush her hand: given the slightly masculinized clothing she already knew she was meeting someone else who'd had to fight to be taken seriously because of their species and sex, and it was generally accepted practice that you did this when you met someone else who'd been thought it. No one knew why. _I suppose you just didn't want either of you to look weak_ She thought, biting back the instinct to act girly and comment on her fur, which she was startled by: it was the darkest and silkiest she'd ever seen. She was surprised to see a skunk with such beautiful fur, and then immediately hated herself for thinking that because there was _of course_ no reason why a skunk wouldn't it… it just wasn't the first think that came to mind when you thought of skunks though, was it?

After a brief attempt to force each other's metacarpals into a single lump that Judy though she won solely by dint of having practiced this before with Furschia, and a brief, grudging, nod of approval from the skunk, she released Judy's paw and moved on to Nick.

"And Mister Wilde, the civilian consultant." Said Agent Zorilla-Gutierrez, watching his face carefully with hooded eyes. "We were somewhat surprised to see Bogo involve a civilian on this case." She said.

"Oh, now come on ZG, it's not that unusual. I mean look at him, he's clearly going to have valuable input... " Said the Leopard, and Nick straightened up a little and squared his shoulders proudly. _At last, some who finally recognises me as the born detective I clearly am._ He thought.

"… I mean, it's a burglary, we clearly want someone with practical experience. It's not unusual to hire former felons as consultants. Cat-burglars and what not. Look at whatshisname, Frank Abignale? First fox hired by the Bureau."

Nick blinked twice, and glanced over to the skunk, still shaking his paw, who gave him a look that was about equal parts sympathy, amusement and _see what I have to put up with?_ but with just the slightest hint that if she wasn't plotting actual murder then she was still leaving that card on the table for the future. Nick smiled slightly. He was starting to think he might like this skunk.

"Absolutely." He said, confidently cutting off Judy's correction and moving over and giving the leopard a needlessly enthusiastic paw-shake. "Glad to help in any way I can, I'd fill you in on the details but, you know…" he said, making a see-saw gesture with the paw not handshaking as he refused to let go and kept pumping the leopards paw in one of those awkwardly long politician handshakes that just never ended.

"WITSEC gets angsty if I say too much, so…" he said, before shrugging. He managed to grab the Kudu's hand as he passed, and shook both mammals paws vigorously, clearly relishing their identical looks of shock. Judy didn't blame them: _WITSEC_ was the federal witness protection and relocation program, run by the Federal Marshals' office. The entire department of Homeland Security was less than two decades old, and still had a huge inferiority complex about other, older, federal bodies, and the slightest hint that Nick was protected by another federal body would rattle them… and of course the whole point of witness protection was that it would be impossible for anyone outside of the program to check if he really was or not: the less evidence they found, the more certain they would be that he was in witness protection. Heck, given the extreme compartmentalization of the federal government and the well-documented jurisdictional friction between Homeland Security and the Justice Department, it would maybe be even harder for Homeland to check than it would for the ZPD: Bogo and Furschia had both worked with city and state- level relocations in the past, and the Martials owed them a favour.

Having suitably freaked out Johnson and Johnson, Nick took it upon himself to introduce himself to the room's other occupant: tech millionaire and self-proclaimed computer genius Lucian Remes.

Nick prided himself on being able to spot money a long way off, smell it even, get the _terroir_ of it: old money, new money, clean money, dirty money, drug money, tech money, and he had to say that if mister Remes was doing the humble millionaire thing, he was one of the best at it, because Nick was getting nothing.

Oh, he was playing with a top of the line, released-this-week smartphone about four times the cost of Nick's, more than twice the price of Judy's, and he had a smart watch as well, and what looked like an actually honest of goodness _Zoogle glass_ augmented reality device in place of glasses, all despite the very strict no electronics rule given at the start of the briefing, but other than the small fortune in wearable tech, all of which could be hidden in pockets in a moment, he didn't look , or stand, or walk or even really smell like he was super rich. He was short for a wolf, and slightly built, shorter than Carrol, and she was female and a smaller sub-species, with that mottled yellowish brownish greyish not-colour of fur that most real wolves had unless they dyed. There were no doubt interesting and unique physical features to him, and as Nick glanced at him he was aware of the far more focused energy of Judy watching Remes as well, no doubt noting them all and mentally filling in a police witness statement or some such, but if Nick had to give instruction of a sketch artist it would have been "Vanilla Yogurt, and not the interesting kind."

By scent Nick could tell that the wolf enjoyed long walks in the park and ate very healthily and had for the last decade at least, whatever health fad was most popular at the time, and no doubt he found a way to tell people about it at every opportunity. Other than the high-tech props and the needlessly geeky _"_ _You are likely to be eaten by a grue."_ T-shirt there was nothing to suggest his profession or interests in the way he moved or stood or interacted with his environment, whereas most people did, in Nick's experience. It was as if the mammal was so devoid of actual personality he'd had to overcompensate on tech to stop people mistaking him for furniture.

Judy, however, was noticing his small stature by wolf standards and wondering it that was encouraged him into academia and business to compensate for preserved physical inadequacy, before chiding herself for being so cruel to profile someone like that.

 _I mean profiling Nick was **the** worst mistake of your life Judy_, she thought. Which is why that as Judy was trying not to profile Remes, Nick himself was thinking _Oh great, what a dork._

I which just goes to show something or other.

Lucian Remes looked Nick over quickly, and gave him a quick sniff too as Nick went to shake hands, glancing at the Hawaiian shirt and undone tie and snorting back sardonic laughter.

"Oh, wow. The full _street hustler_ Halloween costume. All you need to complete the look is a bunch of dubious consumables to hawk on the street corner." He said, eyeing up Nick's ZPD consultants badge.

"That said, you were quite good on the late show… playing the salt of the earth street smart a little too hard for my tastes, but I suppose on TV you have to lay it on with a trowel. I guess if everyone suspects a fox to be a hustler, then be a hustler." He said, giving Nick a jolt as he remembered the old truth: know that as you are observing carefully, others are carefully observing you.

 _And his nose will be even better than mine._ Thought Nick, hiding his unease with long practice: few people got through his outer mask quite that quickly. _God I hate wolves and bears, I never have the advantage with them._

Remes moved on to Judy, a brief professional handshake from a well manicured paw that showed no interest, just getting it over and done with, and pleasantries done Johnson and Johnson realised that it had been at least ten seconds since they'd last rubbed-in the fact they were in charge, and resumed talking.

"Okay, now you all know each other, let's get this over and done with and brief you on the details of the case:" said Johnson A, the leopard.

"At approximately oh-nine-hundred hours last Wednesday, Mister Remes here left this office, with both of his two employees Juan-"

"Co-workers, please." Said Remes, looking genuinely pained. Johnson A, paused, put out by the interruption, but then rallied.

"His two co-workers Juan Mendez, 32 year old male coyote and electrical engineer and Doctor Dariush Veisi , 41, Persian golden jackal and mathematician, were both still working when he left. Door security clocked him out, and neither the CCTV or the guard on the door saw anyone else enter the lab. Mister Remes returned at twelve forty two, with the DA, to unveil the new _safetynet_ computer program to the city and found this." Said Johnson A, indicating the conspicuous hole in the remarkably ordinary looking desktop tower on the desk at the end of the narrow room under the one window, before sweeping his paws over to indicate the glass sliding door between the main lab and the server room, entirely covered with clawmarks. "Hard drive gone, both Mendez and Veisi missing."

At this point Johnson B smoothly took over. Clearly they'd run thought this speech several times with various people.

"Upon discovery of this, the ZPD were called at twelve forty four, first unit arrived at twelve fifty two and secured the crime scene and took statements. Lucian realised that the importance of the missing hard drive and apparent kidnap of the staff would expedite a federal investigation and called his contact at the Transportation Security Administration at thirteen hundred hours, and the first units from homeland arrived at fourteen fifteen to take custody of the crime scene."

"Kicking out the ZPD forensics team who had just started, and as a result breaking the chain of evidence and utterly contaminating the crime scene, because Remes called some bureaucrat running the _SafetyNet_ project who panicked and deployed the closest TSA unit, and the closest Transport Security Administration staff happed to be Airport security with no training on how to behave at a crime scene." Said Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez, sardonically, before continuing, talking over the two Johnson's.

"As the one official attached to the TSA in the Zootopia metro area with actual investigative experience I should have been brought in to secure the scene myself, but my superiors decided that as I am technically an employee of the Department of Justice on loan to them, and not a Department of Homeland security "lifer" they chose to keep this in house and did not inform me of the break-in until an hour after the ZPD forensics team lodged a formal complaint, by which point the morons on the scene had taken all the evidence collected out of the numbered ZPD evidence bags and put them into airport-security confiscated item bags without making a note of which numbered item in the old bags went into which number new bag, meaning that of the two hundred pieces of physical evidence photographed _in situ_ and catalogued by ZPD forensics before Homeland took over, one-thirty are now spatially free floating. We now have not idea, for example, which of the thirty cigarette and six cigar butts they found and accurately located on the fire escape is which, because no one bothered to make a note of it before switching bags."

Nick, to whom "chain of custardy" sounded like something you used to keep prisoners shacked to the wall in some mediaeval dungeon while you poured pudding on them didn't think that sounded too bad, but he at least got the gist that a lot of the evidence had got mixed up and they didn't know exactly where in the building it had come from any more, and that that was apparently very bad. Judy, however, paused midway through taking notes on her police issue notepad and groaned and buried her face in the paper.

Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez smiled wryly and nodded with some sympathy. "My thoughts exactly."

"I still don't see what all the fuss is." Said Johnson A, defensively. "I mean, we know that all those things still came from the parts this building we searched…"

"… but we don't know where in the building, and we can't prove beyond reasonable doubt to a court that it is in fact the same evidence that the ZPD collected an hour earlier, because your first responder on the scene was a glorified bouncer who wouldn't know the chain of evidence, chain of custody or _Habeas Corpus_ if it bit his tail off, and he used his federal badge to unlawfully confiscate everything. Sir." She added, just a fraction of a second too late for it to indicate any respect at all.

"Now ZG, it is exactly that sort of poor attitude that got you transferred out of the bureau and over to us. And less of that _habeas_ nonsense, what have I told you about using Spanish words I don't understand? It's unprofessional."

" _Ir a morir en un edificio en llamas."_ Muttered the skunk.

"Huh?" asked the Leopard.

"I said I'll work on that, sir." Said Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez.

Nick snorted back what might have been a laugh, and Johnson A squinted at him suspiciously for a moment before picking up where Johnson B had left off.

"Having secured the scene and reviewed the evidence gathered by ZPD ." said Johnson, ignoring the snort that that statement got from half of the people present "We began reviewing the CCTV footage and putting together a timeline of events, during which we discovered that no one entered or exited the building Via any of the ground floor doors in that time period, and no one was spotted on the stairs or on the fire escape: in fact, Mister Remes parked his car in a position where his dash-cam just happened to cover the bottom of the fire escape and we can rule out anyone climbing onto or off it in the timeframe of the crime."

"And before you ask, we can rule out a helicopter landing on the roof or people jumping from the roof of this building to the next." Said Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez, mock-helpfully. "I know because there is a rooftop café on the adjacent building and I feel that however good their _bruschetta con fungi_ is, I feel someone would have probably looked up from Instagraming their food for long enough to notice someone throwing two kidnaped scientists from one roof to the next."

"I said no Spanish Gutiérrez! Now... where was I… oh yes: we also ascertained that the Hard drive containing the only know copy of the _safetynet_ was removed professionally, with correct tools, and not just ripped out, suggesting that they wanted the data intact, and that all the paper copies of the research on the sorting algorithm were removed from Doctor Veisi's desk. The room was then wiped down with bleach and the florescent strip-lamp bulb on the ceiling there smashed and replaced with a UV bulb that the attacker or attackers must have brought with them, which was then switched on, de… de… denudating?"

"Denaturing." Muttered both Remes and Zorilla-Gutiérrez under their breath.

"… destroying any Da-nah evidence."

"It's pronounced DNA." Said Judy, not looking up from her note-taking, before realizing that she'd just corrected a federal agent and covering her mouth in shocked embarrassment. Zorilla-Gutiérrez, however, grinned happily, clearly glad some else had said it. Johnson glared, briefly, but then coughed once to hide his embracement and then continued.

"The bleach bottle and the new strip lamp did not yield any useful forensic traces themselves, Some Da… some _DNA_ was recovered, but not the perps: they recovered from a small trace of Mister Remes' fur found in one corner, forensics estimates that going by the amount the DNA had degraded, that the lamp must have been left on for at least an hour before Remes returned to the scene with the DA and switched it off, putting our break in at eleven forty at the latest."

"Eleven forty?" said Judy noting that down on her pad. Nick glanced over at her densely written notes, filling every conceivable inch of the page before, with his usual casual calmness, shifting his eyes back to Johnson A and saying

"Interesting. Say… what's that you've got there?"

"This?" said Johnson, beaming. "Other than the bleach, the light and a fragment of ribbon that we think might have come from clothing, is the only thing they left at the scene." Said Jonson, rather dramatically reaching into a black briefcase and pulling out a transparent plastic evidence tube of the sort used for knives, in which a giant blow-gun dart hovered, its end safely corked and the needle neatly tagged with an evidence number like the worlds weirdest pinned butterfly. Nick and Judy doth craned to look, and while there weren't the tell-tale blue droplets deeding the needle like in the initial photo, the _Midnicampum holicithias_ eclectic blue of the darts fletching was a dead giveaway.

 _Nighthowler._

Both Nick and Judy glanced sideways at the glass wall separating them from the server farm. There were a _lot_ of scratches

"What… what made those?" asked Judy.

Zorilla-Gutiérrez shrugged "Could be Jackal, could be Coyote, could be a lot of things. Medium sized digitigrade pred." she held her paw up, and made a clawing gesture, indicating the space between thumb claw and pinkey claw. "Bigger paw size than me, or Mr Wilde, smaller than a tiger or bear: could be a very small puma or a very big lynx, but the bluntness of the claws suggests canine over feline so most likely one of the two missing researchers."

"Our current theory is that one of the two was hit with the dart, and the other locked himself in the server room to try and hide. Assailant or assailant's unknown then removed the savage individual and came in to mop up." Said Johnson A.

"Figuratively and literally." Said Johnson B, indicating the freshly bleached surfaces. Judy nodded, now it was drawn to her attention she could notice the smell of chlorine: it must have been worse for Nick and Remes she realised.

"Both the door and the window were locked from the inside at the time Mr Remes returned with the DA." Finished Johnson A. "No witnesses, no gaps in the CCTV in the stairwell or in the security guard's room, and the guard didn't notice anything unusual, heard no strange noises ect coming from in the room."

"I'd imagine that a _Nighthowler_ crazed jackal or coyote attacking the server farm would make an ungodly, hideous, arrhythmic din… so yeah, distinguishing that from 2000's Lars Ulrich could be difficult: had it been Neil Peart he might have noticed and saved the day." said Nick, dryly. He glanced at the window, eyes half closed. "That opens onto the fire escape, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but it was locked from inside, and can't be opened from outside." Said Johnson A. "Getting in or out that way would be practically imposable."

"Impossible? Well, that it, Judy. We may as well go home and tell Bogo we give up: it's impossible, apparently." Said Nick, walking over to the window, and reaching a paw out, before pausing just as he was about to touch it, it was covered with fingerprint powder, he glanced sideways to Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez , who nodded very briefly giving him permission.

Nick popped the window open, same PVC frame with the big, L shaped locking lever as the other one he'd seen, and stuck his head out, looking around.

"Hey, this is a crime scene you can't just-" started one of the Johnson's, before ZG shushed him.

"Let's see where this goes." She said.

"Impossible crime. Locked room mystery…. You said there was a piece of ribbon found at the scene?"

"Yes." said Johnson B.

"We think it was from the perp's clothing." Said Johnson A.

"Yeah, because ribbons are the go-to uniform for armed kidnappers. Put out an APB on Jethro Tull, also wanted for questioning: little girls with lollypops, Morris dancers, old typewriters and tape decks." Said Nick, gingerly stepping out onto the fire escape and trying to ignore the sudden hammering in his heart and the way it swayed very slightly under him.

 _Oh Jesus, this is a stupid idea, I should go back to pawpsicles._ He thought, his mouth dry and metallic. _You'd have to be nuts to try this… but thanks to Finn's misspent youth and that ribbon, I know **just**_ _what to try._

Nick pulled the window to, so it was just ajar, and the fished his kerchief out of his pocket , holding it up briefly to show everyone watching though the window the slightly faded old Junior ranger scouts scarf.

"Now, if was going to do anything illegal, not that I ever have, I'd always carry a simple handkerchief with me, for a number of reasons: fingerprints, wiping down surfaces to remove evidence, to store things, to ball up and throw out of a window of a room or car as a signal that the cops are here and everyone needs to bail and hide the evidence, as a bandage… lots of reasons." He said, moving it form paw to paw in a deceptively simple set of moments, like a stage magician. "Also very good for sleight of hand tricks, and you can even blow your nose on it if needed… also, as a friend of mine once taught me, does this." He said, rolling it up into a rope and making a loop, holding both ends with one paw, he then looped it over the tip of the L-shaped handle on the inside of the window and then, with both ends of the kerchief past the window jar, pulled on it hard, slamming the window shut. He then, very carefully and with both hands, pulled the thin kerchief though the tiny gap at the bottom of the window seal, slowly dragging the L shaped handle thought 90 degrees until it snapped locked with a click. He then held up both paws to the started mammals in the room holding one end of the kerchief in each paw between thumb and fore-finger with his other fingers spread wide, theatrically, before letting go of the end of the kerchief in his left hand at taking the other end in both paws and, very slowly, drawing it out, teasing it through the tiny gap at the bottom of the window until the end of the red kerchief wiggled and daggled on the still like a wagging tail, then a little bobtail and then, the very tip of it darting like a snake's tongue, he managed to drag the last of it out of the window mechanism and stood theatrically on the fire escape, whirring the kerchief between both paws like a jump rope before unfolding it to a full sized kerchief again, and the putting it back in his pocket and shrugging apologetically through the window at all their slack-jawed and stupefied expressions. The Johnson's were great, but if he was giving out prizes for sheer shock, Remes would win.

 _Ah. Thought so. Well, just goes to show who's the smartest canid around._ He thought. He then went to lean on the rail of the fire escape, which nearly broke off under his weight, and he staggered forwards in shock, dancing away from it, before flattening himself against the window, eyes wide.

"Um… little help?" he squeaked. Judy rushed forward to let him inn while everyone else just stared. Zorilla-Gutiérrez was the first to recover.

"Well, I guess that explains how our assailant or assailants got _out._ Any insights on how they got _in_ would be much appreciated, if you have the time Mister Wilde." Said the skunk, dryly.

Nick paused, staring at the ceiling and then rising a paw to his chin, contemplatively giving this a think-over. After about a second his ears slowly slid back, and he cocked his head on one side, then the other, before paused, mouth very slightly open revealing the very tips of sharp white teeth, before nodding to himself, firmly.

"Well, I don't know if it is exactly how it happened, in fact I doubt it a lot… but I've got a way it _could_ happen. If you're interested."

Zorilla-Gutiérrez made a _Tcha!_ noise leaning back on the wall, and rested one elbow in the crook of the other arm and made a waving gesture with her forearm that was almost French.

"By all means." She said.

Nick nodded, and turned to Judy.

"How big is a dart-gun? I mean, one that would fire something like that." He said, nodding to the evidence tube holding the tranquiliser dart.

"That's an older model commercial dart, not ZPD issue. Compressed air launched, you'd need a barrel and an air reservoir … at least this long." Said Judy, holding her arms out a little more than shoulder wide, about a foot. "No smaller."

"That long?" paused Nick, looking around for something to use as a prop. "How wide?"

Judy shrugged. "Couple of inches."

"Okay, don't suppose anything has something about that size I could grab for a sec?" asked Nick, looking around. He really needed a prop to demonstrate the next bit.

There was a snort and a muffed noise between Johnson and Johnson that Nick didn't hear but guessed was a rude joke, when that remained him or something he could use.

"One sec." he said, opening the door and disappearing for a moment, just a russet bottle-tail poking around the door as he leaned into the corridor and spoke briefly to the Rhino security guard in a low voice that Judy couldn't follow, and then he reached into his back pocket and took out the dollar bill he'd won from her and then re-appeared a moment later with the security guard's magazine.

"So about the size of a rolled up newspaper?" Nick asked, industriously rolling up that issue of _tailcurler_ , before suddenly noticing something on the magazine and doing a visible double take.

"Whoa, wait one sec…." he said, unrolling the magazine and flicking to the centre page, before holding the magazine up vertically and folding down the centrefold page. "Oh… my… _god."_ He said, coking his head on one side and staring. "Judy, check this out!"

"Oh my _gosh_ Nick I do _not_ want to know!" said Judy, raising her paws to her face like blinkers and turning her head suddenly to avoid seeing, rotating internally with embracement.

"Oh wow… that cannot be physical possible. Does that seem possible to you?" said Nick, leaning over and, with a slight knowing and amused glance at Judy's discomfort, showing the centre fold to Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez, who raised one eyebrow questioningly but then looked and, with no surprise at all, said.

"Oh, know, that's quite possible. I nearly had a go myself, but my cousin tried one out and said it gave her lower back pain."

To Judy's horror Nick then tore out the page, and handed it to Johnson and Johnson. "Wow, I mean wow, does that seem possible to you?" Nick as asked, in his _eager and helpful_ voice.

Johnson A cocked his head on one side. "Wait, that can't be physically possible! How would it fit?"

"It's possible." Said Johnson B, blandly. "I know. I was sceptical at first, but my wife insisted so…"

"What an age of wonders we live in." said Nick. "Hey, Carrots, didn't you say your dad had something like this?" he said, waving the centrefold, at which point Judy physically flinched back with acute embarrassment, before realizing that something about that sentence didn't scan.

"Wait, something like _what?_ " she said, lowering her paws and glaring at Nick, who was admiring the pull-out centre-fold poster. Nick glanced at her, smiled smugly, and flipped the poster over to show her.

"V8 diesel hybrid. Now available in compact city cars as well as pickup-trucks. That fuel millage is just _obscene._ I mean gosh." He said, all innocence. "How do they even fit a full V8 in a compact?"

"They rotate the engine block over on its side." said Johnson B, blandly. Nick was starting to suspect he had one and exactly one emotion.

"Yeah, but they have to move the seats around to get it to fit." Said Zorilla-Gutiérrez. "The driving position is just _awful_ for smaller Plantigrade mammals, you have to really strain to reach the pedals."

"Why, what did you think we were talking about Judy?" asked Nick, grinning as he put the fold-out back into the magazine, glancing at the pages just for a moment. "Oh look, naked people." He said, all innocent surprise, before holding up the rolled up magazine.

"Okay, so, this is the approximate size and shape of a dart gun like the one used, right?"

Everyone nodded.

"Oaky… so how could our attacker or attackers get in to a locked room un-observed and dart at least one of the two occupants?" asked Nick, moving over to the window, and glancing down, holding the rolled up paper in one paw as he leaned on the glass with the other.

"You guys from Homeland set up shop in the office under this one, right?"

"Yes."

"The day after the break in." said Johnson A and Johnson B.

"Uh-huh? And these guys are pretty sharp, right? All federal agents, armed, well prepared? Able to put up a lot better a fight that two computer scientists, and a lot, lot better prepared to deal with obvious tricks, right?" said Nick, tying up the Magazine with an elastic band so it didn't unroll itself and tucking it into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back, before dropping his Hawaiian shirt over it to hide the protruding lump. Judy noticed he had a small scar visible thought the fur of his back and the part of her that was a police officer logged then analysed that fact, before the part of her that was a friend realised that she shouldn't stare or pry. Particularly not at a friend's lower back.

Johnson A stood up straight, and inflated his chest with some self-importance.

"Those officers are amongst the finest that the TSA, and Homeland Security in general, has to offer, and I take pride in their state of readiness."

"They're probably sober: they're not air marshals, after all." added Zorilla-Gutiérrez, doing her bit to diffuse tension between Homeland and the Justice Department. "They may even be awake."

While Johnson and Johnson glared, Nick nodded to himself and popped the window.

"Okay… so if I can convince them to open their window, then the missing computer programmers shouldn't have stood a chance." Said Nick, swallowing his fear as he stepped out onto the fire escape, walked down a half turn and then, before he could chicken out, hopped over the railing of the escape and stepped onto the window sill.

"Nick!" yelled Judy, running out onto the rickety escape.

The fox looked up to her, and shook his head twice, holding a finger to his lips for silence. Now he was on the solid stone of the window sill, he actually felt a lot better: it was more than wide enough for him to walk comfortably and go no-where near the edge, and unlike the fire escape it didn't sway slightly in the wind, which was disconcerting to say the least.

Checking that the "dart gun" was still in place with a quick pat, he hopped over the six-inch gap to the next still with a cocky casualness he _really_ didn't feel, but people were watching so he had to put on a good show, and then paused. He was next to the window of the office Homeland Security was using, and to his complete lack of surprise the conversation he could overhear was almost entirely about how pointless and boring staying here was when the computer was clearly long gone and no criminal would be stupid enough to return to the scene of the crime, mixed in with just enough sports talk and unflattering work-place gossip to let him know that they were confident their boss wasn't about. Johnson A in particular didn't seem liked by his co-workers, so they had that going for them he guessed.

Nick paused, and blew out a shuddering _oh my god what am I doing?_ Sigh. He hated enforced method acting on a con, but it was part of the job: you could fool everyone some of the time, and some people all of the time but you can't fool everyone all of the time; sometimes the only way convince a mark into thinking you were in genuine danger and needed their help was to put yourself in genuine danger.

And to be fair to the merits of standing on a ledge five double-height stories up: you didn't have to be a great actor to look really, really scared thought Nick as he carefully ruffled up his head fur and clothing and, suitably windswept and dishevelled, stepped onto the still of Homeland's window and banged his body against the glass, backed up to the window so his "pistol" bulge was fully visible and scrabbled at the glass with his claws, staring down over the ledge and flattening himself out as much as he could to get as far away from the edge as possible.

"Help! Oh Gosh HELLLLP!" he yelled. "I've changed my mind, I don't want to jump any more, I've changed my mind! Help! HELLLLP!" he yelled, turning his head to stare over his shoulder with a panicked and horrified expression at the room full of shocked and stupefied Feds. "Help! I want to live!" he yelled, scrabbling at the glass futilely and kicking dramatically at the stonework of the still as he leaved every inch of space out of it to keep away from the drop.

One of the homeland agents, an Amazonian Giant Otter, was the first to react and punched the person next to them, a black bear, and yelled "Well, don't just stand there, get him in!" before running forward to help. The dilution of responsibility thus broken the rest of them stopped gawping at him like morons and started to help like morons, popping the seal on the window and damn near knocking him off-balance in their rush to help, forcing him to slide sideways a little to avoid taking double-gazing to the face, which he incorporated into his act with a nervous looking slide backwards, followed by a rapid to-and-fro glace from the half dozen paws now reaching out to help him, to the ledge, and back.

The otter saw this, and, clearly thinking he was an undecided jumper, shushed the others clamouring at him and held out a re-assuring paw.

"hey, hey… don't panic little fella, we're here to help…." He said, only slightly undermined by half turning his head, keeping eyes on Nick, and saying, _sotto voce_ "Guys, someone call the cops."

"Oh it's okay." Nick said, reaching for his magazine behind his back. "They're already here." He said, before pulling out the magazine and pointing it dramatically at the otter and saying "Bang!" quite loudly. The otter starred at him, looking confused and affronted in equal measure. Nick followed this up with a quick point at the bear, and then a "Bang…. Bang bang bang bang _bang!"_ school-playground bust of imaginary tommy gun, before leaning back a little and looking back up to where Judy, Johnson and Johnson, Remes and ZG were watching, aghast. He held out the magazine casually in one paw and shrugged at them, arms out wide.

"And I even made sure I approached the window with the bulge fully visible. You all saw that." He shrugged a second time, and hopped back onto the next door window still, ignoring the confused Homeland officers behind him, before saying "But still, no hard feelings" He said turning and casually tossing the magazine into the otters outstretched paw. "Speaking of trouser-bulges, check out that centrefold… the fuel mileage is sexy as anything." He said, before grabbing the side of the fire escape and hopping back to the relative safety of the swaying cast iron, without breaking breath and talking to his audience like nothing had happened.

"…it's just people naturally put others into neat categories: pred or prey, strait or gay, liberal or conservative, rich or poor….victim or attacker, when with any of them, that last one in particular, you could easily be a bit of both.

"Block I grew up on there was a bunch of tree otter things, Grison? South American I think, instinctively mimicked injured baby animal calls to lure in prey back in the bad old days of the Mesolithic, by the 90s they'd adapted this to having a baby Grison ring your doorbell , beat up badly and crying and saying that daddy hit mommy and mommy wouldn't get up, please help me. You open the door to let the poor thing in and bam, sack over your head and daddy and mommy Grison start beating on you with pipes and baseball bats 'till you show them were you keep the rent money.

"Add in the dilution of responsibility, the so called Kitty Genovese effect where big crowds don't respond to someone in distress but one or two people do, and suddenly being injured, or crying or, to pick an example out of no-where, being an indecisive jumper on a window ledge, you won't get the time of day in a busy street, but half way up a building with no one else around but the guy on the other side of the glass, and suddenly it becomes licence to open basically any door or window you want, because what's the other guy going to do even if he's suspicious, leave you threatening to jump while he fetches security? No. You don't try to help a guy on a ledge there's an ninety-nine point nine chance you're a monster, you do there's a one in a thousand chance you're in trouble. That's why being a Good Samaritan in the big city is classed as an extreme sport." He said, stepping back through the lab's window and giving Judy a reassuring _see I knew what I was doing_ nod because she had looked genuinely worried when he went on the ledge, before draping himself across the still casually and addressing the room.

"But people still do it. Someone in distress appears hanging off your window still a hundred feet up, you help them in first, and check for guns second. Mammalian nature. Even trained TSA officers, whose entire shtick is spotting weapons or suspicious behaviour, because that's what they do _at work_ and you confront them with that scenario outside the confines of their usual work environment and they don't react the same way. That's why the military has to work so hard to get even natural preds to kill complete strangers: people are conditioned by society to avoid violent confrontation, and if confronted with some in distress who you can't ignore, then that means helping them out." He shrugged.

"The guys that worked in this lab were probably decent, honest, everyday people. And you know what they say about decent, honest, everyday people: there's one born every minute."

Nick sighed, stood up, and turned to Remes. "Tell me about them."

Remes shifted slightly awkwardly, for the first time less than perfectly composed. "Juan Méndez… Juan was more than an electrical engineer, he was practically a wizard: the filtering algorithm we created to weed out false positives from the SafetyNet data was actually a relatively elegant bit of coding, but the raw data it works off… there are over two thousand air-pollution monitoring stations in the CBD alone, all designed for detecting lead,C02 and diesel particulates, traffic monitoring stuff, you know? It took Homeland Security and me and Juan's input weeks to work out just which ones needed to have Gas-chromatography mass spec fitted to get the coverage we needed, and even then, we had thousands of loci feeding real-time information to the central server, that needs to be cross-referenced with weather data to work out what wind direction is like so we can tell where the scent of _Nighthowler_ is blowing to the Mass-spec from…. Just processing the raw data without the server farm melting was a task and a half, let alone the invaluable input he contributed on the positioning and maintenance of the sensor network… we'd have been lost without him." Said Remes, looking pained as Judy made a note on her pad: _J. Méndez, v. talented and important 2 project Remes hiding something 'tho._

"And Mister Méndez, the information the ZPD was given on this case didn't appear to have any contact details for him" said Judy. "No address or social security, for example." She said, while Remes squirmed.

"Look, whatever else he is, Juan was… _is_ a hugely talented individual, and I won't hear a word against him." said the wolf.

Nick also seemed to notice Remes's discomfort. "I'm sensing a _but_ coming up…" said the fox, folding his paws behind his back and watching Remes's face through half-closed eyes.

Remes glared at him, clearly flustered. "Look, I don't believe in punishing someone for something their parents did, and yes, it's a crime, but it's hardly murder. He was two when his parents came over, this is the only country that he's ever known, his parents didn't even _tell_ him he wasn't born here until after he graduated collage…"

Judy groaned, and Nick raised an eyebrow and glanced over to her, as she face-palmed and buried her face in the notebook.

"He's an undocumented worker, isn't he?" muttered Judy to herself. Missing mammal cases were famously hard: missing mammal cases involving undocumented workers were generally considered almost imposable, or the next best thing.

"He's a fine engineer, and has the finest work ethic I'd ever seen. He was here every day by six…"

"I'm sure he was very punctual." Said Johnson A. "I mean, they can't all be lazy. But I'm sure we'd have avoided the worse of this trouble, mister Remes, if you hadn't hired an illegal-"

"Oooo-Kay." Said Judy, interjecting herself between Johnson A and the increasingly angry wolf. "Do we have any actual information regarding mister Méndez? Any actual useful leads?"

"I have an address, that's it." Said Remes. Judy groaned, but took a note of the address anyway: an address wasn't much to go on, particularly not a rented room is an older block: she should know, the only photo ID she'd needed to rent her room was two Bennie's for the deposit, and Menéndez had apparently managed to find an even crummier apartment, going by the address given.

"And no other leads?" asked Judy, almost pleadingly. "Any friends, family or similar he mentioned? Anywhere he would hang out… anything?"

Remes shook his head. "No, sorry."

"We already checked the address." Said Special Agent Zorillia-Gutiérrez. "But by all means…" she said, tossing over the house-keys to Judy. "You have to sign for those, but given the chain of custody is screwed already..." She said, nodding towards the Johnson's, and shrugged.

"Now you see, ZG, that is exactly the sort of awful attitude that has harmed your career." Said Johnson A. "You need to take a far more pro-active attitude, particularly given the unique insight you could offer here."

Zorillia-Gutiérrez glared, with a cold fury. "And _exactly_ what unique insights could I offer here, sir?"

"Well, he's an undocumented and you're, well…"

"I was born less than a mile from here, sir." She said, audibly gritting her teeth. "and my parents came over legally in the 60's, so I'm not sure what insights into the migrant experience you feel I might have, sir, but hey, I speak Spanish and have an accent over one of the vowels in my name, so I'll just wander around every Bodega and taco van in the neighbourhood and ask random mammals if they've seen him, shall I?" she grated, every syllable dripping sarcasm.

Johnson A, checked his watch, and patted her on the shoulder encouragingly as he walked out.

"Attagirl, see that's the sort of proactive attitude I was talking about, I expect a report on my desk by morning ZG, and speaking of taco vans" he glanced up at Johnson B. "Lunch?" Johnson B nodded, and they began to walk out.

"Cover the rest of my afternoon ZG, and show officer…." He glanced a Judy, clearly having forgotten her name. "And show the officer and the fox out, would you dear? Oh, we're taking the car. You're okay getting the subway home, right?" he said, disappearing out the door.

Nick, Judy, Remes and Zorillia-Gutiérrez watched him go, Judy horrified, Nick head on one side curious, and ZG open-mouthed at the sheer gall of the mammal.

"Huh." Said Nick, after a moment. "Johnson by name and by nature. It's good to see my tax dollars are being well spent. I mean, forget _SafetyNet_ , how much did it cost to develop a mammal utterly immune to sarcasm?"

He glanced sideways to Zorillia-Gutiérrez. "You never know, you might get lucky and he'll die in a car crash."

Zorillia-Gutiérrez snorted. "No such luck: those pool cars are almost built like tanks, it would take a big-rig to even dent one of those." She said, shaking her head. "And besides, knowing my luck he'd probably just bounce." She then signed, turned to Judy. "It gets worse." She said, nodding to Remes.

"Worse?" she said, questioningly.

"Worse than him?" Asked Nick, jerking a thumb towards the door Johnson and Johnson had just left through.

"How, is he in the clan or something? _Que gata desagradable para el que trabajas!_ " he said, managing to dredge up some half-remembered school Spanish lessons. Special Agent Zorillia-Gutiérrez smiled wanly at his attempt, but Remes winced at his mangled pronunciation "Gato, _Que **gato**_ _desagradable para el que trabajas_." He said, in perfect Castilian. "You got your sex muddled." The wolf corrected.

 _Yeah, I'm seeing a shrink about that_ thought Nick, glancing at Judy, before reminding himself that he _definitely_ wasn't attracted to rabbits and looking back to Remes and making a mental note that the smartass had corrected him.

"I meant the case." Said ZG, sardonically. She seemed a lot more relaxed now her oaf of a boss was out of the room, Judy noticed. The skunk leaned back on the windowsill, fiddling with a chunky ring on her left hand, and then nodded to the wolf. " Doctor Dariush Veisi, give her the good news, Remes."

"Oh great, another undocumented worker?" asked Nick. "What are the odds?"

"Worse." Said Zorillia-Gutiérrez. " Doctor Veisi was more or less paranoid by profession, and seems to have taken some care to exist off-grid."

Remes then took over. "Doctor Dariush Veisi was… is, a certifiable mathematical genius: I may have ran the coding, but it was his sorting algorithm that made SaftyNet viable. Without him we would have nothing, and I doubt that I could even begin to replicate his work without the notes they took during the raid, without him we have nothing… but there have been, let's say, certain threats made against him."

"Threats?" asked Judy, making a note of that. "Of actual bodily harm?" she asked.

"You could say that." said ZG, pulling out a transparent evidence folder and passing it over. "This was pushed under the outer door, apparently. Mister Remes didn't want the project getting bad press, and so helpfully chose not to inform us about this until _after_ the kidnapping. We traced the printer used to make the note, local internet café, no CCTV, user paid cash. No lead there"

Judy took the note and promptly winced seeing the language used. She then handed it to Nick, while she made a note of it in her notebook Nick took it, and raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth a little, drawing in a hiss of breath.

"Ah, so I take it that some folks in the Alt-right didn't think that he should be allowed to work on an anti-terror project like this on account of his Middle-eastern background?"

Remes snorted. "Ridiculous, ill-informed thugs, not helped by idiots like Johnson profiling everyone they meet. They saw a Persian jackal and a foreign name and leapt to assumptions. Doctor Veisi and his family are Zoroastrians, they had to flee their country back in the 70's after the shah's overthrow because they spoke out against religious fundamentalism: one of his uncles was assassinated in exile on the orders of the ayatollah. And now some idiot decides that just because he's Middle Eastern they can call him a terrorist."

"Any other threats? Or just the one note?" asked Judy, staying focused.

"He claimed to be hunted by spies: the ayatollah's agents were after him, apparently. They needed mathematicians for their atomic project, he claimed. He had… he had some personality quirks, all geniuses do. At the time I dismissed it as a mild delusion… after what must have happened to his family during the revolution I thought he was bound to be a little paranoid, so I ignored it. I just humoured him. Now I'm less sure." said Remes.

"The extent of his harmless little paranoia seems to have extended to multiple fake names, false address on his job application form, his given phone number is a burner, pre-paid mobile bought with cash, his wages from the project were paid into an untraceable offshore account…." Said ZG counting out on her claws.

"You know, the usual. And mister Remes seems to have known and tolerated all this to keep such a talented mathematician working for him." Said the skunk. "So we have two missing persons, one undocumented with just an address, and the other we don't even have a real name or date of birth for." She said, as Judy broke her pencil in her paws, without even noticing it.

"My response exactly." ZG said, as Judy got out a spare pencil. "So, a project that was specifically designed to prevent Bellwether's acolytes hitting the city with Nighthowler, add to that whoever wrote that threatening note and the possibility that there really might have been some sort of foreign spies after Doctor Vesisi, and we have a whole bunch of suspects, and exactly zero leads." Said Zorillia-Gutiérrez. "Frankly you couldn't have made this a worse missing mammal case if you'd tried."

Nick and Judy shared a look: Judy worried, Nick smug.

"My thoughts exactly." Said Nick, before clapping his paws together and rubbing them enthusiastically. "So even more kudos when we solve it! So, mister Remes, the day of the incident, did you see or hear anything suspicious? "

"That's my job." Hissed Judy, elbowing Nick in the hips, because his ribs were too high for her to conveniently hit.

"So, mister Remes, sir, the day of the incident, did you see or hear anything suspicious?" she asked. "Particularly anyone showing an unusual interest in you or your lab, or anyone loitering around the building?"

"Not that I noticed." Said the wolf, shrugging and starting to fidget with his phone, distractedly. Nick then cut in.

"About the lab, pretty unusual spot for a tech start up… I would have imagined that an out of town development park, or the tech hub around the Zootopia U would have been a more obvious location. Why set up in a flatiron in midtown, if you don't mind my asking?"

The wolf shrugged. "We needed a central location in case someone had to drive out and check the SafetyNet sensors, or release small amounts of _Nighthowler_ into the air to test them."

Judy looked startled. "You had access to Nighthowler?"

"Only in tiny amounts, for testing the sensor grid. They stole that in the raid, too. It was in initial Homeland Security report. This location was central, affordable, my company has had to downsize dramatically in recent years since the fanatical crash. Plus this place is relatively secure."

"Not secure enough." Muttered Nick, glancing out at the fire escape. Remes frowned.

"Your little stunt on the escape was very impressive, but they checked the bottom rungs of the ladder, and there were no prints, hair or fibres, and I had my car parked facing it: my dash cam shows no one used the fire excape."

"No one used the bottom of it." Corrected Nick, leaving thought the papers left on the desk, mostly invoices for parts and labour or take-out menus, several of them local Persian restaurants. _Veisi? Or is Remes and fan or Middle Eastern food? He's smells like he's into fad diets._ "The top floors of this building are practically deserted. You can go down as well as up on one of those things. All you'd need to do is find a way into the building and up to the fifth floor, then walk down the escape to this window." He said, glancing at Judy.

"You think they used the elevator shaft?" asked Zorillia-Gutiérrez, not looking up from her ring. "Call it in, Hopps, get forensics to check it out. ZPD forensics not these Homeland clowns. We can check the cellar door in the alleyway to see if anyone got into the basement and the elevator from there: it's not covered by the CCTV or the dash-cam. There might be something, but it's a remote chance at best: it's a cellar and a door in an alleyway, it'll have acquired a dozen new layers of forensic material since the robbery, we'll get DNA and fibre hits from half the rough sleepers and drunks in midtown." She said, before nodding to Nick and Judy. "Go on."

Judy glanced to Nick, surprised to get something close to praise from a federal agent, and then continued.

"Could you feasibly start over? Recreate this algorithm without the two kidnapped workers?" asked Judy. The wolf looked up from playing on his phone, and shrugged.

"No. Maybe if I had Veisi's notes and a team of mathematicians and a year to do it, but without the notes? Snowball's chance in Sahara Square." Said Remes, disinterestedly checking his phone.

He'd clearly had to do this a hundred times already with Homeland, Judy saw, and he was bored and annoyed and close to becoming short with her. She'd have to ask her questions quickly and pick them carefully before she lost him: the sad fact of police work is 90% of the time when people become evasive or refuse to co-operate with you it's not because they're guilty of anything, they're just pissed off with you and know that unless they are already under arrest they can get away with it. The trick is to get the information out of them before they get too annoyed and invoke either lawyers or the famous _I pay your wages you know_ line. It was part of her training, and she was good at it.

Nick, However, was good at annoying people. A lot.

"Veisi and Méndez, both canines." Said Nick. "Any reason for that? I mean, what? You prejudiced or something?" He asked, irritated with Remes's dismissiveness towards Judy and wanting to get him back for it.

To his surprise while Judy shot him a glare, Remes just gave him a pitying look and then rolled his eyes like a passive-aggressive teenage girl.

"We were trying to make a computer program that understood how scents moved around a city: I wanted co-workers I could talk to without them looking at me like I've gone mad. You remember the last time you tried to _really_ talk about scent to a non-canine? What part of it wasn't ass- numbingly stupid?"

Nick had to admit he had half a point there. Even cats, who had a pretty good sense of smell, tended to miss things that as a fox he found blindingly obvious. Nick was even prepared to cut Remes a little slack when he asked.

"Are we nearly done? I have important things to attend to." He said, gesturing with his phone meaningfully.

"We'll not detain you for any longer than is necessary Mister Remes." Said Zorrila-Gutierrez, like she didn't mean it but had to say it anyway.

"Seriously?" asked Nick. "Important things? You just booted up Gokemon pro! I know the theme song…. Not… not that I've ever played it…" he said, realising that both Judy and ZG were giving him looks that were part amused and part pitying. "Blue team?" he asked Remes, in the awkward silence.

"Red team, but it hardly matters now, _Sol and Lun_ is where it's at now, and I already have all I need in this game." Said Remes, showing his Phone briefly to Nick.

"Oh please as if I'd be impressed by a child's game and…. HOLY HELL? Is that a Articuno?" said Nick, noting the over 3000 hours logged and the fact he had all six region-specific exclusives.

Remes nodded, smugly.

"First and only one seen in the city so far. Spotted it while out checking one of the SafetyNet sensors... are we nearly done? I haven't caught lunch yet."

"This won't take a second, mister Remes" said Judy, making notes. "If you're hungry, I think the Rhino outside had some donuts I'm sure he'd be willing to share. Speaking of him, he took photos of me and Nick when we came in…"

"The photos were stored internally, up until last week: when they took the algorithm they wiped the log, in hindsight we should have stored security data off-site. The donuts… are they organic and gluten free? I'm on the paleo diet."

Nick snorted, and muttered under his breath. "Of course you are." Unfortunately, Remes seemed to hear, and glared at him.

"I take my body and wellness very seriously, thank you very much."

"Oh great, you're not that Avocado-wolf guy you keeps making all the memes, are you? It's his fault normal guys like me can't afford guacamole any more, since you made it trendy." said Nick. And then because he couldn't resist taunting people when he could, he twisted the knife to see what would happen "Besides, isn't organic food basically a con? I should know: I used to run food cons."

Remes _glared_ , I mean, he actually _scowled._ "Well, excuse me if I want to go paleo and live a more natural lifestyle!"

Nick held up a finger questioningly, and then turned it in on itself with an "ohhh… bad choice of words there my friend. You see, Judy, if she was to go all paleo, good on her, no one would care, but frankly cutting out gluten and eating your breakfast of fish and carrot-sticks raw doesn't make your diet genuinely Palaeolithic and thank _goodness_ for that because, personally, can think of nothing that would scare me more than sharing a small room with a wolf living a genuinely Palaeolithic diet because unlike Judy, mister Remes, your natural diet would be, let's see here… _everyone else in this room._ But you know, sure, why not, let's all just dose up on N _ighthowler_ , maul each other to death and go back to the good old days were no one was vaccinated, and everyone ate all organic food, and lived to the ripe old age of died in infancy. You know, assuming our parents didn't just decide we were the runts of the litter and _eat_ us."

Remes and Judy stared horrified, but ZG seemed to be trying not to laugh as the others stared at Nick aghast at just how cutting that was. He realised he was in too deep to go back now, so he pressed on.

"If you want gluten free, I think they do a good fish and rice option at that Persian restaurant around the corner. It's not as faddy, but they do a good _Sab-its Polo_?" said Nick, mockingly dredging up details from the menus he'd seen littering the desk.

" _Sabzi polow_." Muttered Remes, correcting Nick's pronunciation again.

 _"Sabzi polow?"_ replied Nick, testing out the pronunciation. "Huh. I always assumed it was pronounced to rhyme with Polo. Like… Marco."

"No, like pilau, as in Indian rice." Muttered Remes. "Can I just go now? Or do we have a minimum quota of talking about rice to get through?" he said glaring at Nick. Judy sighed. _So much for a few more questions before he gets annoyed._

"Just one more question, sir, this computer algorithm, is it valuable at all?" she asked, writing down the wolf's responses accurately like a cop should. Although she left out the bit about rice. Remes rolled his eyes, from Judy to Zorillia-Gutierrez and then back again.

"Only to us. It has no resale value to anyone."

"But it cost a lot I bet." Said Nick, wandering around the lab and poking and sniffing things seemingly at random. "I mean, not exactly cheap for the taxpayer I'm guessing."

Remes glared "SafetyNet had an overall operational budget of 60 million, the statistical control project, our algorithm, had about a third of that."

Nick whistled, looking shocked "Twenty million just to weed out false alarms? Judy, I'm in the wrong industry. Wow, what did you charge? I mean, personaly?"

"My compensation was under two million, most of the rest was operational and start-up costs, equipment and data-management, as well as Juan and Vasisi's compensation."

"That's a lot of money mister Remes, this project, why was Homeland Security so desperate to get this up and running so urgently? Surely it would have been far cheaper and more effective to train more explosive and drug sniffing wolves?" said Judy

"Cheaper and more effective? Undoubtedly, but there's the privacy angle; additional canine units would be seen as highly invasive." said the wolf.

"Invasive?" asked Judy, making notes. Remes nodded, and smiled sardonically.

"Ah, well seeing your personal situation, you and your …friend. I mean, I personally think that it's very sweet, challenging taboos like that…"

"Oh we're… we're not actually an item." Said Judy, raising her pencil like she was making a point in class. There was a brief crash behind her, as Nick dropped the chunk of computer he was playing with. Judy didn't seem to notice, as she was too bust blushing under her fur "We're, we're just friends."

"Oh, my apologies." Said Remes, glancing meaningfully at Nick over Judy's head. "I just assumed… anyway it's nice to work with your friends. No, well, you may have become somewhat used to spending time with a canine, but many mammals find the level of information we can discern from scent somewhat… invasive. The detection thresholds of the sensors are in fact higher than canine noses, we can detect far smaller amounts of _Nighthowler_ , the advantage the sensors have is they report it to a central computer so we can see patterns, and they _only_ detect what we program them to, _Nighthowler_ drugs or explosives, whereas we pick up everything, and there are legal issues about whether or not it constitutes an invasive search or not."

Judy snorted. "Oh come on, your sense of smell can't be all that good…"

"Kale chips for lunch, toaster waffles and a banana for breakfast, four cups of coffee today, black, one sugar." Remes said not even bothering to theatrically sniff at her "Two Tylenol with breakfast, non-branded. Based on your species, sex and age I'd normally say for Mittelschmerz pains or cramps, but you're on Levonorgestrel so I suspect it's for leg pain: you're carrying a light injury to your right leg. Paracetamol will ease some of the inflammation, but I'd recommend a topical Ibuprofen gel personally. " he said, breezily. "The levonorgestel is something of the career-mammal stereotype for female lagomorphs, but better that the alternative: I suspect going into heat every few weeks would be somewhat distracting, a contraceptive implant is the best direction to go in even if you're not getting any at the moment, my dear."

"I mean, given your close working relationship with a fox, you're clearly okay with other mammals knowing everything about you, from brand of shampoo to when you're lying or _exactly_ the last time you had sex, but some mammals could find that invasive at best and downright creepy at worst." He said, shooting the now cringing Nick a look. "So glad to see that you're fully okay with that, Officer Hopps." he added, smiling smugly and turning to leave.

Judy stared straight ahead for a while, before Remes slammed the door after him and she realised she'd snapped her second pencil in ten minutes.

"Right." She said, after a few moments, aware that she was truing red under her fur. "Sure, fine. So politically not popular to just hire a lot of wolves?" she asked the room in general. " And Nick, did you have to provoke the important witness twice your size? Do you want another mister Manchas incident? He might be small for a wolf but he could still have snapped you like a pencil!"

"Doubtful." Said Zorillia-Gutiérrez sardonically. "Mammalian bone is a little tougher than that, similar to poplar wood, if I remember my forensic training that's what they used to make crash test dummies from back in the day: if it breaks, bone will break under the same situation, but I don't think mister Remes had reached _his_ breaking point quite yet. He was however looking like he would have quite enjoyed punching you in the face, Wilde, but after being stuck with him and the two Johnson's, I'd agree that Remes could very much afford to shed some of his pompousness: he's clever, but boy does he know it and he wants just _everyone_ to know it." Said the skunk.

"Seems like a common canine trait." said Judy, glaring at Nick, but by now only half angrily.

 _He's not been trained for this yet, it's natural to want to stand up for your friends and get emotionaly involved, and that's exactly why we don't do that interviewing witnesses. He was trying to help._

"So speaking of canine traits… if their sense of smell really is that…. personal…. Not politically viable to put hundreds more on the street?" she asked ZG, while mentally running thought anything embarrassing she'd ever done and wondering if Nick could tell.

"Not via the TSA." Said Zorillia-Gutiérrez, not unkindly. "Not after Bellwether sowed the seeds of mistrust: prey won't feel safer with a bunch of uniformed wolves on the street, civil rights groups will resent the intuition to their privacy, and given the ongoing accusations of profiling, Preds wont trust anyone in a TSA uniform. It'd have a zero percent approval rating across all key demographics: even putting Pred/prey issues aside, Liberals will cry invasion of privacy despite the fact they're the ones at risk, and conservatives would be offended if you dared suggest that highly trained agents could to a better job than giving Bob the florist an Uzi and an issue of _the Punisher_. Everyone wants to feel safe, but no-one wants to change their lifestyle to achieve it. They'd sooner have the illusion of safety. Bellwether understood that."

"People are stupid, we get it." Said Nick. " More wolves on the street would work, tho', a lot better than spending sixty million on a system that doesn't seem to have done anything." he said, subconsciously moving around to stand next to Judy: now it was just them and the one Fed, he unthinkably moved into a position where they were both facing the skunk, with him hovering of Judy's elbow; not taking the lead, but ready to back her up. A position where she could talk, and he could just watch and think. To his pleasant surprise, ZG moved into a third position, not opposing them but forming a triangle, showing that she was aware of his intent and wanted to keep everyone actively in the conversation as equals. _I'm adding her to my wolves and bears list: she's not missing any tricks here._ He thought.

ZG snorted, and replied, elbow crooked in the other hand. "By the standards of Homeland Security, that's a bargain. They spent more than ten times that on their Behavior Detection Officers, and their S.P.O.T. program, and every independent review of it, from the Government Accountability Office to the JASON scientific advisory board agreed I'd be more cost effective to wrap 20's around bricks and fire them into the lines at airports, you'd be more likely you'd take out a potential security risk for the money."

"They why?" asked Judy, aghast. "Why spend that much when even the ZPD has had cutbacks?"

"Because the point isn't to stop security breaches, or catch hijackers: it's to re-assure the other mammals on the plane. If they wanted to catch people, they give the money to the justice department. It's what we call _Security theatre_. Take this project: _SafetyNet_ was never going to be the best way to locate _Nighthowler_ in the city or protect key infrastructure bottle-necks, but the propaganda value of an omnipresent network that monitors the air 24/7 to stop _Nighthowler_ attacks is exactly what the public want to hear right now. Security theatre. Why do you think the Department of Homeland Security was formed? It wasn't to catch bad guys, it was to make people _feel_ safer. After all the stuff that happened in the early 2000's the economy was in ruins and people frightened: throwing money into a new origination and having uniformed officers very visibly pull a few preds out of line and pat them down was the cheapest way to get consumer confidence back: it's not like they didn't already have good airline security before, nothing actually changed, but things needed to look new and improved to reassure people.

"That's why we have mammals like Johnson running the show: the entire origination of Homeland Security is just fifteen years old, formed by merging a lot of disparate agencies, from sky marshals to the Coast Guard. No one knew who to put in charge, so they had political appointments up top and bureaucrats working full time just to sort out the jurisdictional conflicts within the department of Homeland Security, and within a few years those bureaucrats were dug in and running the show, and that was fine, but now some of them have forgotten that they're not cops, and you get tweedle dee and tweedle dumbass there playing cops and robbers with no idea what they're doing." Said Zorillia-Gutiérrez, waving contemptuously. "I mean those two don't even have any firearms training, they were never issued guns, but once they noticed I was carrying, they went out and got themselves concealed carry licences because they weren't going to be shown up by an outsider.

"Oh yeah, how does that happen anyway?" asked Nick. "I don't want to pry… but I'm paid to and it gives me a gratifying delusion of power, so how did a Bureau agent end up working with those bozos?"

Zorillia-Gutiérrez sighed. "Despite the impression I give bitching myself inside out when the two Johnsons are around, There are actually some very good people working for Homeland, ex cops mostly, who got in at the ground floor when it was founded, the Coast Guard, the Science & Technology Directorate who actually put the sensors together for _SafetyNet_. There're not all Johnson and Johnson, and some of the people who are trying to improve the department of Homeland Security realised the TSA was the weakest link, the Behavior Detection Officers in particular. So they asked for outside assistance from the BAU, and they got me."

Judy had to physically bite down on her tongue to stop the involuntary fangirl squee noise coming out, prodding instead an awful, choked-of gargling rattle that seemed to take Nick and Zorillia-Gutiérrez by surprise, but then coughed, in what she hoped was a professional and competent way and said in a voice what was in no way horse or overawed.

"You were in the Behavioural Analysis Unit?" she said, suddenly focusing on the ring the skunk was absent minded playing with. "Oh my gosh, is that a Quantizoo graduation ring? Is that yours?"

Nick glanced down sideways. "I sure hope so, Carrots, otherwise she mugged an agent on the way in here."

Zorillia-Gutiérrez smiled at that joke, the first genuine smile Nick had seen from her, but she showed Judy the ring, anyway. "No, it's not a graduation ring: it's a valedictorian's ring Officer Hopps. I noticed you don't wear yours."

"My Mom framed it, it's on the mantel… wait, you read my file?"

Zorillia-Gutiérrez stared. "BAU trained, _conejita cariña,_ I don't meet people _without_ reading their file. I was somewhat disturbed by that press conference, frankly, but I'd say you've more than made up for it since. And no, I was never in the BAU, I completed my BAU training, but the academy… the academy had other ideas on what they saw as my future in the bureau."

"What? Why?" asked Judy. ZG sighed, and quickly replied, clearly having had to do this a lot before, and keen to get this over and done with.

"They felt that it was a waste of academy resources to allocate me to any training stream other than SWAT. I completed the BAU pre selection, got passed over for training, appealed, came top of my class, out-performed everyone, proved all of them wrong… and got immediately assigned to SWAT and not BAU after I graduated and told that unless I wanted to spend my days getting loaned out to Homeland I'd keep my mouth shut and do the SWAT training like they wanted." She shrugged. "…and I couldn't keep my mouth shut, so here I am."

"Oh. Why SWAT?" asked Judy, completely innocently, before spotting the utter death glare that this provoked from Zorillia-Gutiérrez who held the weapons-grade stare for a good four seconds, before her expression broke in confusion, and then softened as she glanced to Nick for confirmation, who nodded.

"Oh yes, she really is that innocent." Said Nick.

"Gods, all the flaws, and it had to be Naiveté?" ZG said, raising an eyebrow, before dropping it again like a flag.

"Well, conejita, it turns out when you're a skunk all anyone in law enforcement cares about is how quickly you can clear a room, and seeing as I wanted to be seen as more than just a walking bioweapon, that was my career down the toilet."

Judy froze up, surprised "You're not de-scented? Er.. I mean, there's no reason why you should be, of course it's just…"

"Most Skunks choose to be, yes, but as we've established I'm as stupid as I'm stubborn, and I refuse to undergo an invasive surgical procedure to make myself and my body somehow less offensive to others. There are still some jurisdictions in the country where they try to register our kids to exclude them from public schools, treat them like weapons, still airlines that refuse to let us fly. I decided that attitudes like that won't change until people accept that un-altered skunks don't pose any sort of threat to them, and to do that I need to me, not what society says I have to be. I have a brain and a heart and frankly some other bits I'm pretty fond of," she said, stretching and subconsciously sweeping her beautiful fur out of her eyes.

"The academy however just saw a set of easily weaponised glands." She shrugged. "Plus the TSA has a piss-poor reputation for sexism and speciesist and background profiling, and I make a very good token threefer for them to deflect criticism about inclusiveness."

"Threefer?"

" _Three for_ the price of one: female, pred _and_ Hispanic. I'm a living Benetton's advert." She said, half bitterly.

"If you were LBGT you could get the full set." Added Nick, cheerfully. The skunk laughed.

"Who says I'm not? Well, no, I'll have to keep you in suspense on that one: always keep something about yourself a mystery, but I must say, you two _are_ every bit as mysterious and surprising as I had hoped. I'd never heard of Bogo using a private consultant before… nor a uniformed officer de-facto running a detective level investigation, officer Hopps. That's quite impressive, Bogo must think you're something special. "

Judy smiled, and subconsciously inflated her chest a little and stood up a mite taller, ears standing proud. Even Nick looked at little impressed to get the implied praise that reflected onto him.

"… Of course, when I got assigned power and responsibility outside of my pay grade, it turned out to be the first move in an attempt to transfer me to a dead-end department and side-line me as punishment for rocking the boat, so it could be that." finished the skunk. She then took in Nick and Judy's horrified expressions for a moment, and then shrugged.

"Frankly, it could go either way. I don't know Bogo's mind-set well enough to make a judgment, but if I had to run a profile I'd say sneaker than he want people to think, but not quite as cynical as he'd like you to believe."

"Oh, about the whole Behavioural Sciences thing…. I've just stated seeing this shrink and-"

"And I am not a doctor, mister Wilde, let alone a board qualified physiatrist. Nor a therapist, nor anything else: I was trained to make forensic profiles, but mostly I point out why people who don't know what they're doing like TSA _shouldn't_ try to profile mammals, and write guidelines and reports about non-verbal communication in different species: you'd be surprised just how many of the problems you see in law enforcement are just different species miss-reading each other's body language and intent, and how quickly that can go sour. It's a job, not a parlour trick. And even if I was a shrink, you most _definitely_ could not afford me."

 _I wonder if Mister Marwulf could?_ thought Nick, but what he said was a far more diplomatic. "That's what I thought; I just wanted to check, ma'am…. Ink blot tests, hokum or not?"

"Hokum: if the shrink pulls them out, then he's either a con artists or he's only doing it because mammals expect to see them. They're far too interpretative and unscientific to make a useful diagnostic tool compared to other methods. Plus if you're a skunk, or a zebra or a panda and people start pulling out black and white shapes, some moron always makes a cheap joke out of it like he's the finest mammal in the world. Because you know, we've never heard _that_ one before."

"Oh yeah, I can see how that would be just awful, just awful, awful people." Said Nick, with no trace of shame at all. "So… you're not playing any shifty psychological games or anything then?" he asked.

Zorillia-Gutiérrez smiled, and shook her head.

"No more than you, mister Wilde."

"Oh. Okay." He said, keeping his body language causal and light and friendly. "I was just wondering why Mister Remes lied for you back there."

"Nick!" said Judy. "I am so sorry about him, special agent, it's his first day and he's a bit, well." She made a gesture of frustration.

The skunk laughed, musically. "What gave it away?" she said to Nick, completely unashamed, as Judy looked shocked.

Nick shrugged. "Typical narcissistic millionaire stereotype: he didn't even look at you when we were introduced to us. No time for anyone but himself, didn't look away from his phone except to reply to whoever he was talking to at the time… but he looked to you when Judy asked if the _SafetyNet_ system was valuable to anyone else but us, just for a moment. That was the only hesitation he showed all the while: he looked for you, because you're pressuring him to keep to a pre-rehearsed line. Right?"

"Bingo." Said Zorillia-Gutiérrez, leaning back on the windowsill. "Hum… more than just a pretty face then _Zorro Tonto?_ Yes, we're pressuring him to stick to that line, and yes, we lied to you. Perk of the job. Officially, were not supposed to give certain details to non-federal agencies. Unofficially… consider it a job interview. I wanted to see how good you two were before I gave you the full details." She said, stretching luxuriantly.

"You passed, by the way."

"Duh." Said Nick, smiling. "So why the company line?"

The skunk smiled. "Can't say, federal policy. Classified. You tell me. I'll let you know if you're getting close."

Nick and Judy looked to each other for a moment, and then Nick shrugged.

"Well, all our current suspects are people who want _SafetyNet_ to fail: someone who supports Bellwether's ideals, or who just wasn't to sabotage the project to make it easier to smuggle Nighthowler, or who want it to fail because they don't like a middle-eastern scientist working on it."

"But?" asked Zorillia-Gutiérrez.

Nick shrugged and opened his mouth to speak, but Judy chipped in and beat him to it.

"But why kidnap the scientists and steal the computer and notes if you wanted to sabotage it? Why not kill them and destroy the computer? Kidnapping is really, really difficult: to get the two out of this room without going past the guard on the door, you'd have to wrestle two mediums sized preds, at least one of them dosed up on _Nighthowler_ out of the window, up the fire escapes and them down an elevator shaft. Even if you knocked them out, we had to drag unconscious people in rescue training that the police academy, and even with some pretending to be out cold and going all limp, getting them up stairs is a huge pain! It's a nightmare." _Particularly as I was dragging a Bison._ Thought Judy _Drill Sergeant Furschia sure has an odd sense of humour._

Zorillia-Gutiérrez nodded. "More than 70% of body dump sites are downhill from the kill site or vehicle, or on the same level. You don't move a prone body uphill unless you have to. We did that exercise too, but we did it at the body-farm at Koxville. It wasn't fun. But yes: if you're trying to stop _SafetyNet_ getting rolled out, you don't need the computer intact or the scientists alive, you need a gun and a can of gas."

"And the timing." Said Nick. "They waited until the day it was going to be shown to the DA. They waited until the program was sure to be as finished as it was ever going to get. Nothing calculated to make it clearer that they wanted the thing intact, and they wanted to make sure no one else had one."

ZG nodded.

"But…. We have no suspects for who else might want one intact." Said Judy, ears drooping.

Zorillia-Gutiérrez sighed. "No, no we don't. Certainly a lot of other cities the world over are looking at _Nighthowler_ and deciding they need a way to guard against it, and no doubt some of them would like to swipe out system… but if' you're good enough to get in here, you could just wait until the lab is empty, copy the data and be out the way you got in and on-one would be any the wiser. This is…."

"Impossible." Said Nick. "An impossible crime, one that doesn't even make sees as a crime. Two kidnaps from a locked room, when there's no reason to kidnap them, too many but somehow not enough suspects, and something that many people might want to destroy or copy, but no one should want to steal, stolen."

ZG sighed, and checked her watch with a quick shake of her wrist. It was a delicate model on the underside of her wrist, and Judy fond the gesture oddly feminine given her aggressive, professional attitude. "And instead of trying to co-ordinate with other federal agents to get a list of foreign powers that might want a copy of this algorithm, I'm going to spend the afternoon doing busy work for Johnson and Johnson." She declared, standing up. "You two seem to know what you're doing: check out Méndez's apartment. It's the closest to a lead we have. I've already checked it out… but that was with The Johnson's hanging of my tail: frankly we need a fresh pair of eyes and I can't take time off from babysitting those two to run a case."

"Don't worry ma'am, we'll do our best!" said Judy, radiating keen alertness.

"Give me a day, two tops, and we'll meet back here and I'll tell you who it is and exactly what happened." Said Nick.

Zorillia-Gutiérrez paused on her way out. "Wow. Little cocky there _Zorro."_

"I have to do it in two days or Bogo will fire me. Well, three days including yesterday."

The skunk snorted. "What did you do to Bogo to get him that mad at you?"

"Broke into the bullpen and solved a murder."

"Yeah, that would do it. Pleasure meeting you Mister Wilde, Officer Hopps. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and rescue my Boss, Agent Johnson."

"What from?" asked Judy. "And, um… didn't he already take the car?"

The skunk nodded out the window. Johnson's and Johnson were in a heated argument with an armadillo meter maid. Their car was booted. Just theirs, none of the dozen or so other federal vehicles were touched. The faint strains of the leopard bellowing _"Don't you know who I am?"_ could just be heard over the traffic noise.

"It's okay." Said Zorillia-Gutiérrez, Handing Judy her business card with contact details, and large blue laminated _Homeland Security: Federal Agent parked on Official Business_ in-windscreen parking permit that would allow a car to park anywhere in the city, legally."I mean, I'm sure they don't mind getting the Subway home." She said as she walked out of the room, smiling.

Judy and Nick followed her out of the room, Nick already wondering how much fun he could have with the parking permit: he didn't own a car, but with a mind like Nick's he'd already thought of at least five ways to make money out of just having it, and seven things he could do just to annoy others. Mostly Bogo.

"Oh, and mister Wilde…"

They looked up.

Special agent Zorillia-Gutiérrez was slipping her sleek .40 handgun back into a holster at her waist that was almost entirely hidden by the lines of her angular, power-dressing cut jacket.

"The Guard did say no recording devices quite clearly." she said, picking up her government issue BlackBeary and checking her messages. "Seeing as you and Hopps got Bellwether's confession recorded using a novelty pen Dictaphone, and you brought it with you on all your TV appearances after Bellwether's arrest, I can only assume you take it everywhere with you, so I'm somehow surprised I don't see it here in the guard's safe. I'm going to remind you that if any of our conversations were to, say, suddenly turn up on the internet, then I'm going to turn you over to some friends of mine from Quantizoo who will rigorously test out _all_ the places that thing could be hidden on your body. Do I make myself clear?"

"Who, me?" asked Nick, all mock innocence. "I'm shocked you'd even suggest I'd try to sneak it in."

"Well, either there's a Carrot in your pants, or you were enjoying your fist day at work more than I would expect. Ciao. "

"It's both!" yelled Nick after her, as Judy playfully elbowed him in the ribs and took back her police equipment, while Nick grabbed his penknife and phone.

"What was that about?" asked the Guard, signing them both out. "What did that badger lady want?" muttered the Rhino, squinting short-sightedly at Zorillia-Gutiérrez as she left.

"Oh, she said that as part of the investigation, we're going to need your logs of everyone's coming and goings to and from the lab, from two weeks before the kidnapping to now!" said Judy, eagerly. She pulled out her notepad. "We'll also need descriptions of Mister Méndez and Doctor Vaisi if you don't have the photo logs."

The Rhino sighed the sigh of someone who was not so much disgruntled in their work as someone who had never BEEN gruntled in the first place, but got a computer print-out from under his desk.

"Paper copies of the sign in from the computer. All I do is note the time people enter and leave the room, okay? Here: homeland took the original, but we have print-outs."

"Thank you! And Mister Méndez and Doctor Vaisi?"

The Rhino considered this, vaping away as he did, and Judy and to struggle not to cough.

"Méndez and Vaisi? I dunno…. Méndez was a regular sort of guy, for a pred. Seemed okay. We'd talk sports, sometimes, but we never really spoke much. I think he was a cardinal's fan. Heavy Spanish accent, like… fresh of the boat heavy. Worked real long hours. Vaisi now, I never said more than two words to him. Hello in the morning, goodbye at night. Seemed twitchy. Spoke snooty like, not what you'd expect. Like a butler in a movie, yanno?"

"Uhuh? And the way they looked?" said Judy, almost pleadingly. She didn't think _twitchy snooty jackal_ would cut it as a description on an APB.

The Rhino considered this, and as he did, Nick leaned in and whispered. "You do realise that Rhinos are congenially short sighted, right? I mean, worse than Bogo. He just mistook a skunk for a badger, literally all of five seconds ago. Between the vape and the heavy metal, I think he'd have to lick people coming in to have a good go at identifying them with _any_ sense, and even then the vape might throw him off!" said Nick, theatrically waving a hand across his snout to clear the air.

"Uggg, clove menthol. Just why?"

The rhino clearly overheard because he glared at Nick before replying.

"Hey, Remes wanted someone big: picked me out especially; no one said I'd have to play _guess who?_ with the feds as part of the job! Mister Méndez, he dressed practically, like an electrician: tool belt, boiler suit. Always carried a _MyPad_ to test electronics, I think. Doctor Vaisi would wear old slacks. Old but good, you know, and that herringbone paten cloth… leather patches at the elbows?"

"Tweed?" asked Judy.

"That's the one. Carried a newspaper."

"Okay, but their _description._ Height, weight, fur colour, eye colour?"

The rhino looked panicked.

"I dunno, average I guess. Um…. Fur… yeah they definitely both had fur… and eyes. I guess Méndez was average height for a Coyote and Vaisi was about average for a…" the Rhino looked panicked.

"Jackal?" asked Nick, helpfully.

"Yeah, right one of those. Bigger than you two, smaller than me. Something a bit weird about the both of them, but I never spoke to them enough to say what."

"U-huh, weird in what way?" asked Judy.

"I don't know, just weird I guess." said the Rhino, illustrating all the fine qualities that makes taking witness statements such a joy.

Judy sighed.

"Okay, you've been very helpful sir. " She said turning to leave. Nick gave the guy a mocking salute, and followed.

"You didn't have to boot the homeland guys car!" yelled the rhino, as they walked away. "I mean he'll be pissy about that to everyone all week now. You meter maids are mean!"

Judy groaned.

Less than a minute later the two of them spilled out onto the sidewalk.

"Oh. My. _Goodness!"_ exclaimed Judy, as soon as they were out of earshot of any feds. "Nick, this case is even worse that we imagined. We have literally no leads and everyone involved other than that skunk is a complete jerk!"

"Yep." Said Nick, walking along happily. "Still glad you're doing this and not ticketing cars?" he asked, glancing over the street at Johnson A, who was now quite red in the face as he screamed at the meter maid, who wasn't budging and inch, federal badge or no badge. ZG was standing and watching, arms folded, with every sign of enjoyment.

"Well, yes, but I'm now really really stressed and tired and, um, actually kind of hungry, that took longer than I thought, and we have nothing to work on." Said Judy

Nick shrugged, looking calm and relaxed, even a little amused by all this.

"Well, we have Méndez's address, we can work on that. But first off, let's get you feeling a little better or you'll be good for nothing... Lunch?"

"Lunch?" asked Judy, distractedly, reading thought her police notebook as she walked along, dodging between people with the nervousness that came after only having spent a few months in the city. Nick glided along in her wake happily enough.

"You know. Lunch: a traditional mid-day meal. Often with coffee. What we'd have both ended up as if Bellwether had got her way. You know: lunch."

Judy snorted, and rubbed at her eyes, tired.

"Good idea, I could do with a break, and then we could check out the Méndez apartment. Any ideas?"

"Well, so long as it's not organic or gluten free, I don't care."

"That Remes guy rattled you, huh?" asked Judy. Nick heisted for a moment, before answering.

"No, not as such. A little. His attitude just rankled: you're rich, we get it. This whole paleo, organic wellness stuff, you're rich and can afford to pay twice the amount for a meal I can, fine, but do we all really need to pretend it makes it any healthier just so you've got more reason to look down your snout at me? I… Preds tend to have some food anxieties. Because… well. You know? It happens. I just don't need some guy wearing two grand of computers to rub it in. Besides, it's all just so faddy. I swear now-a-days, you could rob a bank with a bagel in this city, people are so frightened of gluten."

"You city slickers _are_ sure keen to jump on every bandwagon going." Agreed Judy.

"Yeah, and the superior attitude… hell, it's the bit when they try to tell me ' _oh no, organic food isn't a con'_ to the guy who'd had the words organic and gluten free on his pawpsicles from day one because I know a _good_ con when I see one. Apparently it's not even any better for the environment: I saw on sixty minuets that they can use a _buttload_ of pesticides and still call it organic, so long as those pesticides exist in nature, like a nicotine and stuff, can you believe that?"

"No. Wow, really? Because you know Nick, in my years of _growing up on a farm_ I would never have known that, but, by all means, keep regaling me with your hard won farming wisdom for a talk show, Nick."

"… Sorry. Must have come over pretty dumb there."

"Dumb as a box of hair, but I can't blame you: most city folk seem to think crops just magically appear in the store." Said Judy, sidestepping a passing zebra munching contentedly on a turf burrito.

"But nah, it's okay Nick. You're not wrong: we keep the bottom four- forty organic for the extra cash people will pay for that, and the upper six hundred GM so we have a crop we absolutely know won't fail to cover the costs of the rest of the farm, the rest of the farm acts as a buffer between the two. Most famers hedge their bets, if they can. The gyphosphate on the upper six hundred is nasty stuff, sure, but given that we were using _Nighthowlers_ on the lower fields I guess you could say there were risks there too."

"Were?"

Judy nodded her head, grimly "Once news got out that you could make a dangerous drug from _Nighthowler_ , someone snuck in in the night and dug them all up. Dad was worried and the local sheriff stumped. Third robbery in the county. Uncle Hazel burnt his own _Nighthowler_ s out after that, rather than risk letting someone take them for goodness-knows what. We had to switch to Copper sulphate after that: saved the crop and our organic certification but killed all the fish in the brook. Farming ain't for sissies."

"So I gathered. So over a thousand acres?" said Nick, carefully casually. "Must be a big farm." He said, trying to hide the sudden pang he felt in his gut. "Your parents must be pretty well off."

Judy snorted. "Yeah, so well off that I had to save and pay by own way through the academy. I guess the farm must be worth something, but all the money's tried up in the land. And with nearly three hundred brothers and sisters, you learn to economize; hand me downs and cheap vacations."

Nick stopped waking along and actually did a double take. "Three _hundred_?" he asked, cocking his head on one side and fattening his ears. "Wow: talk about getting busy. How did your parents ever actually find time to farm?"

Judy shrugged. "Mum said dad always managed his time very well."

"Always frond time to plough and sow?"

"Ha ha. It's not that bad, actually. Well, compared to some families in Bunnnyburrow: Mom slowed down after she hit 200, so I've only actually got 291 siblings…."

 ** _Pring. pring. text alert on Judy's phone._**

Judy checked her phone. "297." She corrected, after reading he text. "But the point is…."

 ** _Pring. pring._ ** Judy checked her phone again, and groaned.

"Make that three hundred and two. Jesus, Mom: invest in contraception." Judy looked up into Nick's smug smile. "Let me guess only child?"

"How did you tell? Is it my air of natural independence and self-reliance?" he joked.

"That and the fact you're an entitled brat. And, mister self-reliance, somehow despite all this walking and talking we still haven't managed to get lunch. What's good around here?"

Nick shrugged. "I know a good sushi place not far from here."

"I… uh, I don't eat fish."

Nick winced "Right, Right sorry. You Pick."

"I think we passed a _uGraze_ on the way here. That sound good?"

Nick shrugged. "Can't digest cellulose." He said, apologetically. He spotted a stall on a street corner.

"Falafel?" he asked.

"Falafel." Judy said, nodding with agreement. She then began to walk to the stall, as Nick instantly moved towards the car. They both stopped suddenly.

"Um, Nick, the stall is _this_ way."

"What? Oh God Judy, this is midtown! No. no no no _no_. No: Zootopia rules of survival rule one; never eat street food in the wrong district: we're ten minutes from Sahara square and the best middle-eastern food in the city, we do not want to buy from some guy in mid-town. Its like soy dogs, have to ever _had_ a real zootopia soy-dog?"

"At the academy for a dare: no offence, but they smell like death and taste like feet."

"Exactly what they always taste like outside of midtown: however much as people try to dress it up and say it's just good protein for pred and prey… soy dogs are one of those pred foods that everyone knows is trying to imitate meat, and no-one wants to say it. Never get one outside of midtown or another pred enclave. You're south of seventh street, don't even try, north of sixteenth, heck no. You've got about a ten block window and that's it." He said, as they both turned and walked back to Blinky the three wheeled joke mobile. "In fact, don't ever eat street food unless you're born here: it's almost impossible to spot the good vendors from the bad, a fact that relied on for my living, and there are literally a billion take out places on every street, so why risk it?"

"Uhuh? And the other rules, slick Nick?" said Judy, jokingly.

"Never buy coffee in a shop, you can get great coffee from a stall for two bucks as opposed to seven or eight from a shop."

"You get coffee form the shops all the time!" protested Judy. "You live on coffee. You asked me to get you one yesterday!"

"I asked you to get one: I'm not playing eight bucks for a latte;what you spend your cop money on isn't my shout. Carry a bottle of water and re-fill it from taps or fountains, otherwise every time you buy food you'll want a drink too, and that's an extra two bucks, and always, always use a pre-paid travel card on the metro rather than buying individual subway, L-train, tram or skytram tickets: you'll save, like, fifty a month. At least."

"I have a car." Said Judy, leaning up against Blinky.

"Oh… that's a lie, and you know it sister." Said Nick, smoothly moving to slide into Blinky.

"This, this is not a car." He said. And then he smacked his head on the roof as he misjudged the height again.

Nick swore, and hopped back holding his head, and Judy was torn as to help him or laugh, but in the end she walked round to the passenger side.

"Here." She said, taking him by one paw and placing the other on the back of his head as she helped him into the car. As she did, it coincided with two elderly Doe deer walking past, one of whom glance over and nudged her friend, making a scandalised and disapproving noise that Judy found mystifying until she realised that she had her paw on the back of Nick's head and was apparently forcing him into a police vehicle.

"Oh! No, no it's not what it looks like! I'm helping him!" she yelled.

"Darn right you are girl! Short-sharp shock is the only thing they'll understand!" yelled one of the old deer's retreating down the street.

"But, it's not like that and-"

"Judy." Said Nick, quietly. "Never mind them. Let's just _go._ " He said, in a flat, dull voice drained of all emotion.

"But they-"

"I know, Carrots. But don't make a scene, it won't make it any better. Let's just go." Said Nick, watching the pair coldly, back straight and eyes reduced to slits.

Judy got in the cart, and they went.

"Doesn't that upset you? I mean, obviously it does, but doesn't it make you want to…"

"To what? Magically stop people being insensitive idiots? Yes. But shouting at two old ladies and terrifying them isn't going to make the world one ounce less of a sucky place. In fact it'll probably make it worse. So let's just forget them and _go_." Said Nick, watching coldly.

Judy glanced over to him, as she merged back into traffic.

"Never let them see that they get to you. I get it, Nick. But they sure are good and finding new ways of getting to us, don't they?"

Nick actually smiled slightly at that.

"There are indeed persistent, I'll given them that. We need to swap notes one day: work out exactly what sucks more: being a rabbit or being a fox. I for one _never_ get bored of everyone assuming I'm somehow out to get them. I mean, I already hang out under a bridge, why not go the whole hog and lurk in bushes stealing candy from babies and popping kids' balloons with a blowpipe? "

"At least they think you're _capable_ of getting them; they at least _notice_ you. Being a fox must be nice." Said Judy "Well, if it wasn't for the jerks. I mean, you're taller, that must be nice. And I guess the senses are clearly a lot better, as Reme's had to rub in" she paused, and glanced back and forth from traffic to Nick several times.

"Errr…. About that Nick."

Nick sighed.

"Yes. To all the questions you were about to ask. Yes, I can smell what you ate for breakfast yesterday, and when you're stressed or scared of lying or even just day-dreaming. I'm sorry. I can't _not_ , I'm canine. And it's not like I've tried to hide if from you it's just…I don't point out all the stuff I can tell about people, don't advertise it, because non-canines always find it…well, creepy." He glanced down.

"If you like I can stop pretending not to notice and be more open about it, but find that most people prefer it if I just act dumb."

"Oh, for the love of god, keep acting dumb: the last thing I need is anyone reminding me that every canine I pass can smell what brand of contraception I use… you… you can't read minds, tho? That stuff about lying and day-dreaming, that was an exaggeration, right?"

"I can't read minds, Carrots."

"You sure? What am I thinking now?"

"Well let me see now" he said, putting a finger to each temple. "I'm getting a lot of emotion, a slight craving for carrots and, yes… some variant of 'I sure hope he can't really read minds?'"

Judy let out a shocked gasp, and turned to Nick.

"What? That's what _everyone_ thinks when they say 'I bet you can't read minds'. Literally everyone Hopps." Said Nick, holding both paws out open palmed.

"I guess. It's stupid to think you can _smell_ my brain."

"Oh no: I _can_ smell your brain. We can detect strokes and aneurisms and epilepsy, that why so many canines work as paramedics or trauma surgeons. That and we don't mind the smell of blood. Of course I can smell your brain: it's not like you ever take it out to clean it." He said. He then paused.

"Huh, and I just had to fight down the urge to make a joke about your dirty mind. You should admire my restraint."

"I'd admire your famed sense of smell and restraint more if they could solve this case for us." said Judy, merging into faster traffic."

"Well, I'm afraid they can't help you there." Said Nick, popping on his shades and lazily cocking an arm out of the carts open side, enjoying the cool air ruffling thought his fur and fighting down the canine instant to just stick his head out the side of the moving vehicle and pant. He had his dignity, after all.

"Didn't think so." Said Judy, already mentally running through things to incident: a police officer's list of things to do is always the _incident list_ and so the word gets used as a verb: as in _did you incident that incident correctly, officer?_ She needed to see the apartment, and then talk to the transport department, and then the Persian embassy to see if there was any truth in this spy stuff…

"I already solved it without needing to use those." Said Nick, laying back in his seat and enjoying the sun on his face.

He was not enjoying the Plexiglas on his face when Judy slammed on the breaks a moment later.

"You _what!?"_

"Ow! Judy, I swear, this sudden breaking had better not become a thing with you." Said Nick, rubbing his cheek, annoyed. "I nearly lost my glasses!"

"No, no to _heck_ with the glasses, what was that about solving the case?"

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" he said, sitting back again and buckling up properly this time. "I mean, once you figure out what crime it is has actually occurred, it's really kind of obvious."

"What do you mean, when you figure out _what crime_ has actually occurred? Someone kidnaped two scientists and stole the _Safety Net_ computer, Nick!"

"Really?" said Nick, slightly smugly. "Fair enough: if you say so. You want to chase up that case, good luck with you, but once you realise that the actual crime intended was something completely different, it becomes a lot easier to work out what went down. Surprised that skunk hasn't seen it yet, she seems likes she's got a nasty, twisty mind like this case needs." Said Nick, glancing over, laying down a clear challenge to Judy.

Judy paused, cart not moving and staring straight ahead for a long time. After a moment, in fact given it was a big city after a bare nanosecond, the car behind her started to honk: police light or no police lights she was blocking traffic.

"Um… Judy, you, eh, you should probably move Blinky a bit…"

"Shut up." She said, thinking, but she did put the cart into drive and moved it along. After a moment she spoke

"You think that one of the two missing scientist kidnaped the _other one?_ " She said, after a moment, sounding scandalized. "I mean, like I said, getting two preds, one _Nighthowlered_ up out the fire escape and down a lift shaft into the basement is almost imposable… you think that one of the two drugged the other, or let someone in the window, don't you? That's what you're angling at, even when you said your bit on the window ledge, you can be the perpetrator and the victim of the crime at the same time, it's just how you look at it. That's it… right? That's it. My god, we solved it."

Nick looked at her, proud of her cynicism and clear detective reasoning. "Well done, Carrots. Nicely reasoned." he said. Judy nodded, and set her jaw grimly . _But which one of the two?_ She thought.

"Dead wrong, but well-reasoned all the same." Said Nick. "I mean, eight out of ten for effort tho'."

Judy groaned, and slammed her head into the steering wheel with frustration.

"Nick" she said, slightly muffled. "If you know who it is, or what happened, let's just go back and tell the feds and then attest someone, don't mess about with this one, this will determine if Bogo gives you any more consultancy work with the ZPD."

Nick shrugged, apologetically. "No can do…. we can't get them yet."

"Why? Nick if you are joking me around…."

"No jokes: _I_ know they did it, who they are and what they did. If I tell you, you'll know they did it, but that'll be it. I know because I know how _I_ would have done it, but that's it. I have no proof, no physical evidence, no witnesses. I have means, motive, opportunity, and all circumstantial. I can tell you _how_ it could have been done, and what that means for who must have done it, but I can't prove any of it, not without evidence."

"Okay, but how do we get the evidence?"

Nick shrugged. "No idea, you're the cop. I just think up ways to trick people for a living, I've never had to prove it in court after the fact before now. I guess we do the legwork."

"But Nick, who is it?"

Nick smiled slyly. "That, Carrots, if for me to know and for you to find out."

Judy held his gaze for a moment, and the groaned and punched him in the arm.

"I _knew_ you didn't really solve it already. " she said. "If you'd solved it you'd tell me, if only so you could gloat."

"True, but perhaps I know that if I do tell you, it'll bias how you go about gathering evidence and perusing the case and so could cost us the case. If you try to make the evidence fit the theory some glib lawyer, probably one of those shifty vulpine types, will point that out and you'll get the case thrown out of court. I can't contaminate your process of gathering evidence by telling you what case you need to fit it too. It's like an magic eye, or one of those trick pictures that's a duck when you look at it one way, and a rabbit when you look at it the other way: you tell people what they ought to see and that's all they'll ever see, even if there is other stuff there. I could still be dead wrong. I need an unbiased pair of eyes on this particular magic eye, and I'm looking at a well-trained pair right now." He said, holding out his paws with fingers and thumbs interlocking to make a little rectangular picture frame that he looked at Judy through, and turned thought ninety degrees to demonstrate.

"That or I'm just messing with you by keeping you in suspense. Judy my magic eye is broken: I can't seem to find the duck. Wait, wait… No, still a rabbit. Huh, this one must be a dud, definablystill a rabbit."

Judy gave Nick a playful shove in the ribs, still not quite sure if he'd solved it or not, but to mentally beat from the day's events to play his mind games any more.

"Don't." yawned Judy. "I'm too tired for jokes.

Nick looked over, sympathetically. "Mid-day hump?" he asked.

Judy's ears shot up with shock.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Er. Also known as noon fatigue?" said Nick, momentarily embarrassed. "Mid-day wall? Midnight wall? You know, that moment when it's exactly halfway between dawn and dusk and your body just goes ' _screw this I'm Crepuscular_.' and you want to crash like a ton of bricks?"

"Oh god, yeah, I hate that. You…you foxes get that too?"

"Do we ever. Hey, if you're tired, why don't you grab a quick nap before we check out the Méndez apartment? After we get food?"

"Nick, I'm on duty!"

"Carrots, who would ever know?"

"That's not the point Nick." Said Judy, adjusting her mirror to get a good view of her face and uniform. "I'm an officer of the law." She said, setting her jaw grimly. "A servant of justice, and justice, justice never sleeps!"

 **[Cut to close up of Judy crashed out, leaning on Nick in the parked joke mobile, arms in a tangle, hand still holding half eaten falafel, fast asleep and drooling and snoring into Nick's shirt.]**

 _Snooooooorr-K kerkerkerkkerPhut! Snooooooorr-K kerkerkerkkerPhut! Snooooooorr-K kerkerkerkkerPhut!_

It was a good snore, like duck trapped in a tin can, but with just a hint of buzzsaw.

It was certainly persistent, Nick thought, smiling gently as he finished eating his falafel before sitting back as gently as he could and, trying to not disturb Judy, put his feet up on the dash and folded his paws behind his head and closed his eyes to try and get some rest. The pay wasn't as good as hawking pawsicles, but he had to admit, the working conditions were a lot better, he thought as he started to doze.

He was just comfortably drifting off to sleep, lulled by the traffic nose and Judy's warmth, when he heard the passing voice snicker.

"Hey, check out the freaks in love."

Nick's eyes snapped open and he looked around quickly, without moving his head. As he'd nodded off he'd subconsciously leaned into Judy, who was now fast asleep with her head resting on his chest, and he realised he was cradling her head protectively with his arm in the same moment of horror he realised that he was slightly aroused.

"Oh jezzz, man, that's gross. Why'd a nice rabbit like that put up with that? I tell you, standards are slipping when even the meter maids are easy."

Nick froze up, trying to look around and find who was talking but afraid to move in case he woke Judy and dumped her in this increasingly cringy moment, his eyes searching for an escape. Judy muttered something that sounded like "Wzaf?" and shifted slightly, nuzzling into his chest in her sleep.

Nick practically leapt up, banging his head on the top of the jokemoble's canopy and biting down on his tongue in shock. Judy muttered, and rolled slightly, freeing his chest but trapping one arm as Nick desperately, in complete silence, tried to franticly free himself from the cart without waking her. After a brief struggle with the seatbelt and a moment of panic when he was almost out but Judy shifted onto his foot pinning him with his body out of the cart but one leg still in, he escaped the cart. He heard a last moment of snickering laugher behind him and turned, but the side-street of a small oasis park in Sahara was packed, and given the fool he was visibly making of himself it felt like every set of eyes was watching him and he couldn't tell who'd spoken. More laughter, now retreating into the distance and mixing jarringly with the song playing on a passing radio.

 **K-toplia's all 90's afternoons:** _Savage Garden- to the moon and back._

Nick fled.

 **[cut to a door swinging: heavily graffitied. Each swing reveals a snapshot of Nick in a public restroom, leaning heavily on the sink as he splashes his face with cold water.]**

Nicholas Wilde shuddered, and splashed another jolt of water over his whiskers, freezing cold by comparison to the hot desert air.

"Get a grip of yourself Nick." He muttered, avoiding his eyes in the mirror. "Get a grip: you fell asleep, that was all. You… you just fell asleep. Perfectly natural. You were just tired, and well, you must have dreamt of vixens or something because you're _definitely_ not attracted to rabbits." He muttered.

He caught his eyes in the mirror, and groaned. Letting his head fall forward until he head-butted his own refection with a gentle _bonk_.

"I am _not_ attracted to rabbits!" he said, eyes closed and the wet fur of his head ruffling on the mirror. "I am _not_ attracted to rabbits!"

There was a flush from one of the cubicles behind him, and a large Kudu with curved antlers came out and started washing his hands in the sink next to Nick. Nick froze up, watching the Kudu with horrified and embarrassed eyes: he'd thought he'd had the pace to himself, a public restroom being one of the few places he tried _not_ to use his sense of smell.

The kudu didn't even look down at Nick as he washed up, and for a moment Nick thought he'd got away with it until…

"You just keep telling yourself that buddy." Said the Kudu , not looking up from his own reflection, as he started drying his hands on the paper towels. "But sooner or later you're going to have to come clean with yourself."

"Hey, give the poor thing a break!" Yelled a voice from inside the other occupied toilet cubicle.

"He probably feels like a failure because he's hopelessly in love outside of his genus! Let him stay in closet a bit if he needs to. You remember how hard it was for you to come out to your dad about us? You leave the fox alone, you should be more supportive for his horribly, horribly unnatural relationship! Even weirdos and perverts deserve love!"

The kudu next to Nick frowned, and then turned and banged on the door of the stall.

"Hey Pronk shut up you moron, I was building to that. I'm trying to help the guy out! Just because he's failed utterly at life and is going to turn into a bitter and self-hating closet case and die alone because he can't be honest about how he feels doesn't mean you have to tell him to his face that he's failed utterly at life! I'm trying to sugar coat it here! Besides, it could be worse: at least it's not like it's some unrequited workplace crush or something pathetic like that, idiot!"

"You don't know that! You just met the guy, for all you know you're just salting the wound! Shut up, you're not helping Bucky!" yelled the cubical. The Kudu punched the door again.

"You're the one not helping!"

"No, _you're_ not helping!"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

"No _you_ shut up!"

Nick groaned, and banged his head against the mirror again, eyes closed.

"I'm not attracted to rabbits." He told himself, quietly.

"One sure fire way to find out! Find a bunch of attractive rabbits and check!" yelled the toilet cubical, before resuming its argument with the kudu, which had now gotten quite heated. "And leave my _Mom_ out of it Bucky!"

Nick paused at that. The shouty restroom stall had a point, he guessed.

Padding over from the sink and skirting around the ongoing domestic disturbance Nick ducked into the cubical next to the Oryx-Antlerson's and, trying to ignore the door shaking and the shouting, closed the cubical behind him and, gingerly lowering the toilet seat so he had somewhere to sit, he sat down fully clothed, and then got his phone out.

Nick hesitated for a moment. Was he really about to do this?

Flinching about just how unclean he felt even going there, he got zoogle up, and started searching for images of rabbits. After a moment, he took safe search off, and then after one minor misstep added the search term female for good measure.

 _Okay… still not feeling anything_. Winching slightly at just how seedy this all was. He defined the search terms further, and, making sure his phone was muted, moved from pictures to video, starting with the highest rated videos on _theHutch . xxx_ and working his way down.

"Nothing… nothing… Nope… Nope… Nope...oh _god_ no, that's just nasty…. Nope…. Nope… Nothing." He realised. "Nothing." Rabbit's _didn't_ do anything for him. Rabbits _trying_ to be sexy didn't make him feel a thing. No hot flushes, no awkward stirring in his pants, nothing. If anything, he just felt silly even thinking about rabbits. He wasn't attracted to rabbits at all.

"Oh thank _god."_ Breathing a sigh shuddering of relief, Nick stood up and, making sure to delete his search history slipped his phone back into his pants and walked out of the cubicle. The two antelopes were still arguing when he walked out into the desert sun.

Judy was waiting for him, standing on the seat of the joke mobile for extra height and gripping the roof as she looked around. She spotted him, flashed him a look of clear relief, and then waved.

"Nick! Over here, you dumb fox. Where did you go? I was worried…. Nick, why are you soaking wet?"

"This? Well that's… er…. The faucet was broken. I went into the restroom to freshen up and wouldn't you know the darn thing sprayed me." He said. "Don't you just hate it when then happens?"

Judy looked him up and down, head cocked on one side, paws on hips and foot tapping, and as she did so Nick felt a tingle sweep over his whole body as her gaze passed over, like rain following the plough.

"Harrumph." She said, with a small half-hidden smile that cut him like a knife, before she broke into a grin that Nick realised meant the world to him. "Oh Nick: I just can't take you anywhere, can I? Well, come on: we've got to check out Méndez's apartment, and I want to see if your talent for getting into trouble is actually good for cracking a case."

"Already cracked it, remember?" he mumbled, feeling like an awkward teen. _Oh god oh god oh god._ He thought. _Great, that's just great Nick. No, you couldn't be attracted to rabbits, that would be way to simple and easy to explain, wouldn't it? Supermodels and the lovely Lapine ladies of the world, nothing: two seconds with Judy wearing a stab-vest and falafel crumbs, and you're actually tongue tied, Nicholas Piberius Wilde._

Judy, however, didn't seem to notice his hesitation, but just snorted.

"So you say, slick. Well, only one way to find out: do the legwork and follow the leads. Let's check out this Mister Méndez's apartment . Come on. Let's get a moving, we're wasting precious time and I still haven't forgiven you for letting me fall asleep." Said Judy, sliding back into Blinky's driver's seat. She then noticed Nick's slight hesitation, and paused.

"Everything okay Nick? Did… did anything happen when I was asleep?"

"Huh? Oh probably. It's a big city." Said Nick casually. "But nothing important that I noticed." He said, getting in the vehicle and buckling up.

 _Unless, of course, the fact that I just worked out that I'm not attracted to rabbits, plural, but to **a** rabbit, singular. _

_My shrink is going to have a field day._


	3. Case one, part three: Legwork

Case One, Part three: _Legwork_

Judy Hopps adjusted her stab-vest slightly so it wouldn't catch on the seatbelt as she put Blinky into drive and moved smoothly back into traffic, and then took the exit from Sahara up towards midtown, while Nick ineffectively tried to dry his face with his handkerchief, sending a few stray fox hairs flying all over the place. She was a little annoyed that the fox had let her sleep as long as he had, but she found it hard to stay mad at him.

 _Part of that's his charm, he's very good at ensuring people don't get angry at him. He wouldn't be a good hustler if they did. Part of that's everything you've been thought together, all the help he gave to bring down Bellwether. Part of that's your desire to see him do well and get on the force…._

 _…. But part of that's fear._ Judy thought. _Fear that he's still mad at_ _ **you,**_ _Judy._ _Fear that you'll say the wrong thing like you did at that press conference. Fear that he hasn't or he won't forgive you for being such a stupid, insensitive dumb bunny. The fear he'll reject you, and be right to do so._

 _The fear that you don't deserve him as a friend. And the fear that without him, you'll never really understand how this city works._

Judy shifted, slightly uncomfortably: for as long as she could remember, she'd wanted to be a cop. No, not wanted: needed. If there was anything she understood, it was drive. The need to see yourself become what you knew you had to be. She was not naturally given to introspection. Driven people seldom are: it got in the way of conviction, and she had that by the bucket-load. But when she was with Nick, she always felt that slight nagging voice in the back of her mind that just whispered that now she was a cop, what next? Are you helping Nick to go straight and get into the academy because you want to help him, or because you need him to be a better cop, or for some other reason? The voice that asked _what, exactly, do you think you're doing Judy Hopps? And what do you have planned for this fox?_ The fear that now she had the badge she'd wanted all her life, she wasn't sure what to do next, but she knew that it involved Nick somehow. The growing awareness that she really had no idea what was going on behind that faint smile of his.

Judy put the thought from her mind and focused on the here and now. She had a job to do, and a case to crack: best to focus on that. She didn't make it thought the academy with Furschia breathing down her neck-fur every second watching for slip-ups by being easily distracted.

 _And besides Judy,_ she thought _You're being silly: if one thing's a safe bet, it's that Nick doesn't waste this much time thinking about you or worrying about how you feel. Focus on the case, like he does._

"So where are we going?" asked Nick, checking his refection in the wing mirror as they drove along to make sure that his fur wasn't sticking out at weird angels as it dried, and conspicuously not looking at Judy, his voice calm and cool and clearly not remotely interested in anything. Judy felt as slight upset flutter at that disinterest, but then immediately wondered why on earth she'd felt that.

"Méndez's apartment, we need to examine it for clues, not that there will be anything that Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez has missed, buy we need to start somewhere. Check out the neighbours too, see if any of them can identify Méndez or point us to any family he might have: we don't even have a photo of him, and for all we know he's got parents or a spouse somewhere in the city worried sick about him. Even if we could just let them know what's happened, it'd be a start."

"Right." Said Nick, sitting back and unconsciously leaning his left arm up on the back of his seat. He then realised how suspiciously close to a hug that gesture was and, eyes wide, carefully slipped the hand back and folded them both on his lap. Judy, thinking about the case, didn't notice.

"And then the same for Veisi?" asked Nick, putting on his aviators to avoid accidental eye-contact with Judy, because he was still reeling from the sudden realisation that he had the hots for her and he didn't want this to get weirder than it already was. _Just play it cool and don't make eye contact, Nick, and with a little luck you can maintain a good working relationship for years and die riddled with self-hate without the embarrassment of her ever realising you're into a mammal for outside of your genus, you freak. That's got to be the best case scenario here._ He thought, with a grim humour. _If this was happening to some else it'd be hilarious_ He realised.

Judy shook her head, her mind already filled with identity parades and following up on leads derived from a door-to-door survey.

"No: we don't have an address for him, remember ? We can fish for intel at the Embassy see if his government may really have wanted to kidnap him, but that's it."

"We don't have an address." Said Nick, glancing over under his shades and realising that his neatly folded paws were out of character and leaning his elbow on the back of his seat again and cursing his body for every gram of the awkwardness that suddenly filled him. "But we do have this." He said, reaching into his breast pocket as he put his handkerchief back and taking out and unfolding a takeout menu and waving it at Judy, held between the first two fingers like a business card.

Judy glanced over, and frowned. "Nick we _just_ ate. You had seconds! Wow, so it's true about you foxes, you really are insatiable!"

 _More than you know._ Thought Nick. He rolled his eyes to hide his feelings, before remembering that he was wearing sunglasses, and then gave a slight amused snort and waved the menu again. Judy was every bit as bright as him, or close, he reckoned, but she just didn't look at things the right way: she was too honest, and needed needling every now and then to get her to see things in the half light of cynicism where the connections were most visible.

"A _Persian_ menu. I swiped it from the lab: there were several, but this is the only one that's been folded and unfolded multiple times: look at the creases, someone had this in and out of their pocket several times. Restaurant backs onto the Persian cultural centre less than a block from here." He said, nodding to a building on the other side of the main road out from Sahara to midtown.

Judy glanced rapidly from the menu to the building, and then indicated and turned smoothly into the lane that would allow her to make a legal U-turn at the next junction.

"Huh, so I guess you had more than one reason for wanting to come here for Middle Eastern food."

"Well, actually I was just trying to avoid the swill they serve mid-town, but working the case is a nice bonus." Said the fox, shrugging and smiling apologetically as Judy did a Uie and pulled up outside the centre and cruised past, very, very slowly. Thankfully, with the sidewalk bumper to bumper with parked cars, no one payed the ticketing buggy any attention. _The one advantage of people's dismissiveness: no one notices the meter maid s_ he thought

"Closed." Said Judy as they drifted past. "And for some time." She said: the windows were papered up, and had been covered with poster advertising punk rock gigs and Persian language lessons and events at the cultural centre next door, one corner the city _post no bills_ ordinance trusting out from under layers of advertising like the hand from the grave at the end of _Carrie._

"Yeah, otherwise I would have advised we ate there, to pick up some intel: this is where I was directing you when we came here, the falafel and shwama stall round the corner was a back-up when I saw this place was closed." Said Nick, peering through the windows suspiciously as they passed. After a moment he turned the menu over. On the back, there was an advert to free Persian language courses at the adjoining cultural centre.

"Well, that explains why you thought it was suitable to buy me lunch from a place that had unlawfully blocked the pavement with unlicensed seating and catnip-shisha pipes." She said. "Although I'll concede, that yogurt dip _was_ to die for. So this raises the question, if this place has been shut down for months…."

"Why was the menu in the computer lab?" he said, holding up the advert to the language courses on the back. "My thoughts exactly. And you should have tried the water pipe, it's legal now, you know."

"Not on a public sidewalk it's not, not without the appropriate licencing and hygiene codes. Besides, catnip doesn't' do anything to rabbits, and you wouldn't have a go even when I dared you mister ' _I can't, it'll mess with my sense of smell Judy.'_ I don't know how it is in the city, but back at Bunyburrows a double-dare no take-backs still has some currency."

Nick looked down at her, and despite himself he grinned. "Well, Carrots, I guess we city folk are just a little bit more sophisticated than resorting to childish dares."

"You started it, Nick, don't sulk at me just because you forgot to add no take backs. And on that note, don't steal stuff from a federal crime scene! Do you have any idea how dumb that is?"

"Meh, what's the worst that could happen?" asked Nick, leaning back.

"I arrest you and ZG charges you with Anticipatory Obstruction of Justice, under the 2002 definition, Destruction, Alteration or Falsification of Records in Federal Investigations and Bankruptcy: _'Whoever knowingly alters, destroys, mutilates, conceals, covers up, falsifies, or makes a false entry in any record, document, or tangible object with the intent to impede, obstruct, or influence the investigation or proper administration of any matter within the jurisdiction of any department or agency of the federal, state or city government or any case filed under Title 11, or in relation to or contemplation of any such matter or case, shall be fined under this title, imprisoned not more than 20 years, or both.'_ What's more as a pred with a total body length of more than four feet, tail not included, you'd have to be segregated from the general population for their protection and spend your time in a federal maximum security wing with the lions and tigers and bears and easily dropped soap, oh my."

Nick stared dead ahead, horrified, and slowly re-folded the menu and put it back in his pocket without looking at it.

"Aaaaand I'd going to put that right back where I found it at the first available opportunity!"

"Yes you are!" said Judy, happily, as she swung the vehicle to one side and parked up, leaving the lights flashing so other officers would know she was on duty and not ticket her. She also, as a matter of routine, called in the address of the cultural centre to check there were no outstanding weapons warrants and let control know she was going in: as a general rule, if you entered a property on a case it was considered good form to do this, so that if you disappeared off the face of the earth and ended up as a suspicious bump in the end zone of a local stadium, the rest of the ZPD knew where to start looking for clues. Bogo still hadn't forgiven her for approaching Mr Manches's home without telling anyone where she was going; and she wasn't going to make the same mistake twice. Nick glanced down suspiciously, as if fighting with himself about whether or not to call her out on it, but she ignored him and waited while Clawhauser ran the address through the computer system.

"It's got nothing to do with who they are." she said, eyeing up the Asiatic lion and Persian Leopard on the bench by door. "It's not that they're Middle Eastern, or that they're preds. I'm on a case, Nick, and I should let control know where we are now in case we need backup latter. Besides, great street food aside, this is a rough neighbourhood."

"Hey, I wasn't going to say anything." Said Nick, if anything faintly amused. "Rough area, Judy? Oh, there are alleyways here I'd not walk down , sure, and the graffiti's inches thick, but we're under a mile from Palm Central, and with transport links this good to mid-town and the CBD? Buy now, before the gentrification hits: in a years' time your police salary won't buy the meter of sidewalk you're in. And once it becomes fashionable, you can kiss all the genuine culture goodbye: the tea shops and water pipes and falafel will be gone, and it'll be Starbucks and Preyda and hipsters, hipsters as far as the eye can see." He said, sweeping a paw over the street lazily. "Personally I prefer Zootopia a _little_ rough. Keeps it real: at least then you know where you stand. Of course, if it's anything like where I grew up, where you stand might be mostly on fire from the week's regularly scheduled riot, but at least you'd know where you fit."

"Under a bridge, in your case, so you'll forgive me if I don't take your property advice Nick." Said Judy, getting the all clear from Clawhauser that if they were routinely murdering cops at this address and selling rabbit kebab out the back, then no one had reported it, so as far as anyone knew go for it. She started walking, and Nick floated along happily enough in her wake as usual. "Besides, it's not like we don't have problems out in the country."

"Yes yes, we've all seen Letterkenny. Come on, Carrots, you said yourself the most interesting thing that ever happened in Bunnyburrow was the time your uncle's moonshine still exploded when you were twelve."

"Hey, don't take that so lightly, the Sherriff is still giving uncle Peter grief about it to this day!"

"Really?"

"Sure: it was his moonshine batch went up. He had to go over to Deerbrook and buy from the sheriff there or have a dry barn raising, and neither of those is a prospect you take lightly when you're the town's law; that stag can haggle!" said Judy, pushing open the door to the cultural centre and getting hit by a practically arctic blast or air-con and a burst of Mazanderani language rap that in and of itself was good enough proof that Clawhauser had clearly underestimated the threat posed by the place: because there's music as the international language of peace, and then there's cultural cross-pollinations that should have been drowned at birth, and trying to rap in any language that lacks articles and noun inflection is clearly the latter, Nick thought glumly as he followed her in.

 _Could be worse, could be Turkic language pop._ He mused, glumly, because frankly there is virtually no situation that can't be made worse with Turkish pop.

 _Throat singing doesn't belong in any genre of music other than folk, and possibly the weirder end of metal._ He thought, nodding glumly to the Large, yellowish bull bison behind the counter as Judy introduced herself to him.

Nick pulled out his phone, thinking that at the very least he could catch some Gokemon. This place depressed him: it was a low, ceiling titled space that smelt of disinfectant and floor polish, dust and ethnic food, and quiet, dignified desperation. He knew without looking that there would be a long, low, wood floored carpet-tile-ceilinged meeting space with stackable seating used for AA and gambler's anonymous meetings, community dances, children's birthday parties and Junior Ranger Scout meetings. Every city in the world had a million places like this, and it seemed he's spent his childhood in all of them, on the side-lines, never invited to join the fun. Even the rack of leaflets by the door was depressingly familiar, the only noticeable difference being that it had koranic texts rather than chick tracts, and that there were fewer adverts for pawnbrokers or places that accepted foodstamps than he remembered growing up. He spotted that menus for the closed down take out place next-door were still in the rack, so clearly it didn't get changed that often.

The Bison did a double take a Judy's police uniform and Nick's consultant's badge, and watched them warily as Judy approached, radiating concern.

"Hi there, officer Judy Hopps, ZPD. Nick Wilde, consultant. Can I please speak to whoever's in charge here?"

The Bison stepped out from behind the counter, and carefully sidestepping the stand of flyers advertising courses and charity events, came over and shook Judy's paw.

"Ğalfer Jandek, I teach the Persian and Mazanderani language courses here and run some events. Is anything the matter?" he asked with no accent and the slight nervousness of someone who wasn't expecting to see cops and was now mentally running through a list in their head of which of their stupid friends had gone and gotten themselves in trouble.

He was in his late twenties, very well turned out and wearing a t-shirt that said _its okay, I didn't want to sit next to you on this plane either._ Judy immediately noted that he worked out, but wasn't holding his weight in a way that suggested he knew how to fight, and that he nervously kept checking if she had a gun or not, so he probably wasn't used to weapons, while Nick looked him up and down once and immediacy updated the odds that the guy was gay and at community college, probably working on a formal teaching qualification: he'd left a course book open on his counter, and few straight mammals were _that_ well turned out unless they were on a date. Just another native born Zootopian trying to get by.

"Well, that's what we were hoping to find out; we're working a missing person's and we were wondering if you could help us at all. Doctor Dariush Veisi? Persian jackal, early forties? Do you know anyone by that name?"

Ğalfer seemed to relax slightly, and then crossed his arms when he realised that he wasn't the one in trouble, which is dumb, because if Nick knew anything it's that you're never _not_ in trouble when the cops are unexpectedly in your place of work: they can always find _something_ to arrest you for, that's their job. Judy had her notebook out, and Ğalfer glanced at it suspiciously.

"Look, I don't want to be a problem, but what's this about?" he asked slightly cattily and Nick revised his estimation of the odds of the guy being gay to around 70%. "Because we've not exactly had a lot of love from the ZPD in the past: We get a lot of problems with vandalism and harassment and nothing ever seems to get done, but some idiot back in Terran makes a speech and suddenly we can't move for feds."

"I assure you, sir, this is just a routine missing mammals case. Doctor Veisi is missing and may be in danger, any help you could give us would be _super_ helpful." Said Judy, giving the big bison her best pleading _think of the victim's family_ look.

Ğalfer held the look for exactly twelve seconds before sighing, and tossing his head and walking back to his counter and checking a large register. "Okay, I'll check in the book, see if he's registered for any courses or events, but only because it's you: you're that bunny cop for TV, right? The one who stopped Bellwether: I saw you tackle that anti-pred bigot at the Gazelle peace rally on the news. I've seen the same guy throwing things at the pride parade, and if anyone deserves to get cuffed it's him…. Veisi…. Veisi." He muttered, checking the book.

"Wow, someone finally recognises us from TV." Said Nick, with some pride.

"Technically, he only recognised me…" said Judy, teasingly.

"Yeah, policing the race riot that you started…"

"But he still recognised me! And for something other than that awful press conference. It still counts!"

"Doctor Veisi." Said the bison. "Ordered some Persian -English dictionaries. I remember the guy now: called in once to ask if there were any good Persian English translation apps for iOS6. Never came in, but would order translation stuff by phone every now and again. Got me to translate some things for him once, said he wanted better grammar than automatic translation software."

"Persian into English?" asked Judy, taking notes. Ğalfer shook his head.

"No, from English into Persian: technical documents, computer stuff, I forget what exactly… he insisted I delete the file when I was done. Seemed a little paranoid."

"English to Persian?" said Judy, surprised. "Why? Surely he could just translate them himself?"

Ğalfer shrugged. "If he was a native Persian speaker: he might speak Kurdish, or Mazanderani like me, or Gilaki or one of the Turkic languages, or Luri or Balochi… although I must admit it's odd because Dariush is an ethnically Persian name. But it's not unusual for someone translating from one minority language to another to go via English, particularly when there's technical vocabulary involved. I'm sorry, I wish I could help you more, but the guy never came in: I only spoke to him over the phone."

"I see. And the dictionaries, the postal address those were sent to?"

"Some flatiron in midtown, let me get the address… something industries… "

"We know it." Said Judy, before reeling off the address of the lab. _Of course if you're paranoid, you get it sent to your work, not home, address. No help there. Pursue a different angle, officer._ Judy thought.

An idea struck her. "How did he pay for all this?"

"Pay pal."

"Probably from his untraceable foreign account." Nick added helpfully.

Judy groaned. No help there. "Okay, we'll I'll have to subpoena that account transaction, just in case, but it doesn't sound like it'll be much help in finding him. Thank you, you've been a great help." Said Judy, in the way cops do when someone's been no help at all, but they need to stay polite for the look of it.

The bison shrugged. "Sorry I couldn't help more." He said.

Judy was just turning to go what the bison seemed to remember something.

"I met his friend, 'tho."

Judy paused, and turned on her foot, notepad in hand. "I'm sorry?"

The bison nodded. "The guy does our outgoing mail, well, we're all volunteers here, so all college students or elderly, you know? He's old, and English isn't his first language. The first time he posted the dictionary to Veisi he got the address wrong and it was returned to sender. I phoned up to say I was going to re-send it but it would be a few days late, and a friend of Veisi's came to collect it that day. Guess he was in a hurry."

Judy got her notepad flicked open again, and begun to eagerly make notes. "And the friend, what was he like?"

Ğalfer scratched his neck, nervously. "Honestly? I've no idea: it was about two weeks ago and I was, um, distracted: there was a really hot guy in here dropping some pretty strong signals, and given how conservative this community is, you meet another guy who's openly into you, you don't miss the chance. His Friend? Another Jackal I think… no… maybe a coyote? I'm sorry. No idea."

Judy groaned, and snorted frustration. _Eyewitnesses! Does no one in this city pay attention?_ "And you don't have CCTV, do you?" she said, glumly, noticing the lack of cameras, while Nick scrolled through Facebook.

"No, sorry: we've ordered some for outside, to catch the vandals, but they haven't arrived yet. I'm sure I'd know him again if I saw him…"

"Well, I'm sure that will be _really_ helpful." Said Judy, sarcastically _because we're never going to be able to find either Veisi or the friend, that chances of you seeing him again are absolutely astronomical…_

"That him?" asked Nick, showing Ğalfer his phone, being careful to do so over Judy's head so she couldn't see the screen.

Ğalfer glanced down, and then pointed and nodded enthusiastically.

"Uh? Oh, yeah, that's him. 100%. Good photo, too. "

 _"WHAT!"_ yelled Judy.

"Sure? Willing to say so in court?" asked Nick.

The Bison shrugged. "Sure, I guess."

" _What!"_

"Really? Cool. Well, okay, this _has_ been a pleasure. Okay, so, we'll, I don't know, touch base in a day or so I guess to arrange a proper photo identity parade thing and for you to testify. Thanks, you've been a great help. Don't go anywhere, we'll be in touch." Said Nick, doing his best _Miami vice_ impression from under his shades and he saluted and walked out the door.

Judy stood in the reception of the Persian cultural second for a long moment, paws and pen and notepad held low by her thighs and ears drooping with shock, before holding up a finger. "One second sir." She said, before charging out the doors

 _"NIIIIIICK what was WITH that?!"_

Ğalfer snorted, and shook his head as he went back to his collage work.

"Straight people: what _is_ with the drama?" he wondered out-loud.

* * *

Judy caught up with Nick on the sidewalk, just as he was getting back into Blinky and jumped up on the driver's side, rocking the little vehicle alarmingly on its suspension, much to Nick's shock.

"Ohhhhhhh-Kay there slick Nick, what exactly just happened, because if you have a photo of anyone connected to the case, One, why didn't you bring it up earlier, Two, how could you know who this… this _mystery friend_ of Veisi is, when we didn't know he even _existed_ seconds before , and three…. Just _what the hell_ Nick, why are you keeping this stuff from me?" she yelled. Nick recoiled slightly, clutching his phone to his chest, but recovered quickly.

"Hey, now, I said I couldn't tell you how I know what happed, it'll contaminate your process of investigation: we want to actually arrest anyone, we'll have to prove to a court we did… I dunno... due process, proper procedure… stuff. That sort of thing." He said , waving his paws vaguely. "I didn't know… chain of evidence, due diligence, due… date?"

Judy stared unimpressed for a moment, eyes half narrowed, lip to one side and one ear flopping over.

"Are you just reeling off legal terms you heard on TV once?"

"Yes. I am I getting warmer? Is it a book? How many syllables is it?" He said, jokingly making charades gestures. Judy sighed, shoved him sideways out of her seat to make room, and slid onto the seat next to him, and started up binky's electronic motor and pulled away.

"Fine, be like that: because we're going to Méndez's apartment, and I'm going to follow proper procedure, do the legwork and find the evidence myself and solve this properly, the right way and _then_ guess who'll look silly, mister I-know-how-I-would-have-done-this-crime." Said Judy, leaning over and booping Nicks nose in a, he thought, needlessly perky, keen and upbeat manner.

"Do I have to answer in the form of a question? Can I take Lakes and Rivers for 600, Alex?" said Nick, jokingly, until Judy elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ha ha. You'll see, I'll solve this properly using the science of deduction, like a certain, well known fictional detective, my Vulpine Watson. Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable..."

"...is still a metric _buttload_ of data to trawl through utterly futilely unless you have a good idea what you're looking for from the start. And don't call me Vulpine: that's our word, and if you keep saying it I might get triggered and suddenly revert back to my savage, primitive ways."

"Ha Ha." Said Judy, mockingly, before she noticed the weird look Nick was giving her and, misreading it, suddenly backtracked. "Er… I mean, I'm so sorry if that's actually a... well, one of those words, I'm sorry, I've never heard it used like that and-"

"Judy, slow down before you fall over yourself, I was messing with you. _Goupil_ may get you dirty looks, and _Homba_ **will** get you thrown out of any fox bar you find yourself in, but we're pretty relaxed in general about those things: when people decide to throw nasty words at us, they generally cut the pleasantries and go straight to _stop thief_ or something similarly original." He said bitterly, shifting in his seat.

He suddenly noticed a warmth on his paw, and looked down. Judy had taken her paw of the wheel for just a moment, and given his fingers a re-assuring squeeze.

"it's okay Nick, I understand. It's just I… I still feel a little bad about what I said at that stupid press conference, and what's more I know I deserve to: you've got to let me know if I ever start to be _that_ rabbit, okay?"

Nick smiled very briefly, before remembering to hide it and suddenly ashamed by his own feelings, did the only sensible thing to do when presented with some genuine feels by someone you have a massive crush on: pull you hand away and make a joke out of it before you die of embracement.

"Thanks Judy… that that means a lot to me: I mean, it's so _cute_ that you would feel that way." He said, earning an eye roll and another hard nudge to the ribs as they turned off Palm and onto the Central Expressway towards midtown, the sudden chill hitting them as they passed under the huge adobe-clad concrete arch and into the shade of the biome-wall, the heat briefly rising to fur scorching levels as they approached the giant heaters and then cutting of totally as they entered the tunnel, and then it was literally any road tunnel in the world, concrete and asphalt and lights on the ceiling zooming past. Nick shivered, put out by the lack of the warmth he had gotten used to, and fought down the impulse to move close to Judy because he didn't know how she would react.

"So check out the Méndez apartment? " he asked turning on the radio to distract himself.

"Yep, then the Embassy, see what we can find out. Place by place, step by step. Deduction, like I said."

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that Sherlock homes used Abductive, not Deductive reasoning ."

"Oh, shut up." Said Judy, good naturedly as the radio struggled to find a signal in the tunnel before finally settling on a station.

 **Ed Sheeran:** _In love with the shape of you._

*Judy continues to drive along thinking about the case as Nick's eyes slowly widen and he gets increasingly put out by the music.*

"Hey, Carrots, you mind if I change the station?" asked Nick, carefully casually.

"Huh? Oh, sure, this one's overplayed, so long as it's not your nineties nostalgia station, go for it."

"Thanks." Said Nick, tapping the scan button to change the station.

 **Artic Monkeys:** _Do I wanna know?_

 _*_ _I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I'm constantly  
On the cusp of trying to kiss you  
I don't know if you feel the same as I do  
But we could be together, if you wanted to_

 _(Do I wanna know?)  
If this feeling flows both ways  
(Sad to see you go)  
Was sorta hoping that you'd stay  
(Baby we both know)  
That the nights were mainly made for saying  
Things that you can't say tomorrow day*_

Nick frowned and they nervously laughed. "Wow, is there anyone on the radio who isn't British?" he joked, hitting the button again.

 **Taylor Swift:** _You belong with me._

Nick hit the button again, frowning.

 **Charli XCX:** _Need your love._

Button.

 **Bonnie Raitt:** _I can't make you love me._

Button.

 **The Police:** _Can't stand loosing you._

Button.

 **Mandy Moore:** _Crush_ **  
**

Increasingly frustrated button mashing.

 **K-Topia's all 90's marathon- Tamia:** _So into you_

"Oh COME ON!" yelled Nick, as they popped out of the tunnel and into the haze of diesel fumes and swearing that was mid-town traffic.

"Ummm, Nick, are you okay?" asked Judy, looking sideways at him weirdly as she turned south and headed towards that unlovely area where Midtown met Downtown and that remained the one area of the inner city that for whatever reason resisted gentrification and would continue to do so indefinitely short of a localised Tunguska event.

 _And even then, that would only raise the property price out of my reach._ Nick thought.

"I'm fine." He said, crossing his arms like a sulking teen, and getting his phone out. "You need to hang a left at the next junction." He said.

Judy glanced up at the traffic signs going past, and hung a left.

"Wow, you really do know this city, don't you?"

"Like I said, I know everyone, and everywhere Carrots. Besides, I grew up in the Triangle." He said, referring to the area of central midtown wedged between Tundra town, Sahara and Rainforest and only connected to the rest of downtown by Lionheart avenue. "This is literally one zip code over from where I went to school." He said, as they cruised past what was either a military Green Zone kitted out with every discount metal detector and shatter resistant widow money could buy, or an inner city middle school, and headed past endless identical 1960's housing blocks looking for the Méndez apartment.

"U-huh? Starting to see why you never finished high school…"

"Oh, I didn't go to school _there_ , god no."

"Oh thank goodness…"

"No, all the preds in the triangle got bussed over to the Sacred Heart six blocks up: if a fox had gone to _that_ school he'd have got knifed before he made it out of kindergarten … huh… guess that out in the sticks you didn't have problems like that, Carrots?"

"In Bunnyburrow? Heck, if you wanted to go to anything other than agricultural collage after middle school you needed to be bussed to the next county! Finding a High where the schoolboard wasn't trying to get everyone to either become a farmer, a farm plant operator, or a farm plant mechanic was a nightmare."

"Farm plant…as in… what, broccoli?"

"Plant as in heavy industrial equipment. Farming ain't for sissies."

"So I gather." Muttered Nick, as they pulled up to the outside of the apartment block, causing everyone who saw the buggy to instantly check their watches and try to work out if their ticket was up or not. Headless of the mild panic they were causing in the parked vehicle owning classes of the area, Nick and Judy parked Blinky and walked up the concrete steps to the front door and Judy jumped up to slap the intercom for the building superintendent. After a moment there was a crackle and the light flickered on.

"Yeah?"

"Hi there, My name is-"

"Look, we don't buy or sell at this door and there's no rooms to rent so whatever pretence you're using, you can go slink off someplace else." Said the voice over the intercom, cutting Judy off before hanging up.

Judy stared at the intercom. "Tcha! That was _really_ rude? Who do they think they're talking to?"

"Well, Carrots, given the height the camera's mounted at would only have shown me, and given only you spoke, they probably thought some sort of transvestite fox, so yeah, probably the reaction I'd have expected." Said Nick, Phlegmatically typing away at his phone.

"Here, let me try something…." He said after a moment, ringing the bell again.

After a second the intercom buzzed again. "You again, listen bub-"

Nick flashed his ZPD consultants ID card, covering up part of card with his thumb so only the city crest was visible.

"Hey buddy, Department of Works, I've just had a complaint under dwelling law article 3/title 83, and I don't wanna drag this out all day so just let me in, I'm behind on my quota as it is."

"What, wait, what are you here for again? And who complained-"

"Some crazy old lady going on about control over the heating system." Said Nick, guessing based on his childhood that in any apartment block in the world there was always at least one crazy old lady who was permanently either too hot or too cold. "It'll take me five seconds to check the thermostat and vents in the room are up to code and then I'm out of your fur…"

"Dammit, I've told Missis Mackenzie a thousand times…. Floor five: follow the smell of cat pee, mad old cougar is pretty incontinent now-a-days." Muttered the voice as the door buzzed open. "And tell her that now she's got the city involved, could she please stop bringing it up at every residents meeting…"

"I'll try, but you know how these old timers get." Said Nick, gesturing Judy thought under the level of the camera's gaze.

"Yeah, good luck with her." Muttered the voice, "She can get pretty flirty with latterly anyone under forty." It added before hanging up.

Judy looked at Nick, who shrugged. "No building Super wants to do work they don't have to. If you wanted to talk your way into a building to scam people door to door, not that I ever have, then offering to do stuff for the super for free is as good as a key."

"I could have just got a warrant: this is a feral crime scene and I have Agent Zorillia-Gutiérrez's permission, but I'll give you this is faster that getting a warrant…"

"Thank you Carrots, see this is why I'm just the best at-"

"However, given that Agent Zorillia-Gutiérrez also gave me the key to the apartment and the front door and I was just asking as a courtesy, it's not like I'd _need_ a warrant…" she said, twirling the keyring on one finger, other paw cocked on her hips. After a moment spent enjoying Nick's mild embarrassment, she looked around. "But we still need to speak to someone who may have met Méndez in person, so either the super or… his landlady." She said, glancing sideways at the wrack of letterboxes bolted to the wall of the entrance hall. Tapped to the noticeboard next to it was a "Rooms to rent" poster with tear off contact details at the bottom: the contact address was in the same building, the room above Méndez. Judy took one and, pulling on Nick's tie to get him to lean over, tore it off and stuffed it into his shirt pocket.

Nick looked surprised for exactly one second, before grinning "Sly Bunny." He said, with some approval.

"Dumb Fox." She said bounding up the stairs to find the mystery landlady, and Nick sighed. _Can't we ever just take the elevator?_ He thought, starting up the stairs knees acing and suddenly aware that he could no longer just walk up staircases behind Judy. _Shoot, what if she thinks I'm doing it to check her out her butt?_ _ **Am**_ _I doing it to check her out? When did all his get so difficult? And when did I get so out of shape? If I'm going to be a cop I've really got to get working on some cardio._ He thought, somewhere after the second staircase.

"Nick, hurry up! I haven't got all day!"

Nick groaned. "She's going to kill me…. Oh God Judy, it's on floor six, can't we just get the elevator?"

"Nick, I'm already up here, shake a tail lazybones!"

While Nick cussed and cursed to himself four floors below, Judy gave up on trying to work out what was up with him today and, calling it in to central just to keep them informed of her position, knocked on the landlady's door. To her pleasant surprise, when the door opened it was actually by someone close to her own height, and African Riverine Rabbit, something of an oddity for such a pred heavy area like midtown.

Quickly introducing herself with her usual brisk politeness, she showed the Landlady her badge and ZG's kea to the apartment downstairs, and while she seemed surprised to find that Judy was in fact a full police officer, she at least nodded approvingly.

"About time _abaayewa_." She said, in a soft accent Judy couldn't place: Creole or French West African, before thrusting out a paw to shake. She had a grip almost as bone-crushing as Furschia, and while she couldn't have been a day younger than sixty she moved and spoke like someone half her age.

"Clean living and hard work, when I can't avoid either." She said, when Judy complimented her on her looks."Asase, but you can call me Aso, everyone does." Said the landlady, pulling on a battered denim jacket with an industrial grade packet of nicotine chewing gum in the pocket, and stepping out into the corridor with Judy, grabbing a huge ring of keys before she kicked the door shut after her.

"That nice Skunk girl from the Bureau said Bogo would send someone today, she bet me a soda it would be you: I thought she was joking me when she said there was a rabbit on the force." Said Aso, walking past Judy and forcing her to jog to keep up. "Where's the other one?"

"The other one?"

"The consultant, the Agent said if Bogo sent you, he'd probably send the other one too. _Compare Reynard?"_ she added in French just as Nick finally dragged himself up the stairs, clutching at his side and panting.

"Hehe… finally… made.. it…. Judy, how does one go about stopping crippling stitch?"

"Warm up beforehand." Said Aso curtly, a second before Judy could, the older rabbit eyeing up Nick appraisingly before sighing.

"You could do better _abaayewa_. The apartment Méndez rented is this way. Well, what are you waiting for?" she said bounding past Nick without looking back "You may be paid by the hour, but it's my tax dollars you're wasting." Judy blinked twice, and then hurried after the landlady.

Nick landed on the banister and tried to catch his breath. "Oh come on, I only just got to this floor!"

"Hurry up Nick!"

"Oh, okay! Okay…. AHHHH! Charlie horse!" yelled Nick, clutching at his leg.

The apartment door next to Nick opened, and an equine head popped out.

"Yes?"

"What?"

"What do you want?"

"What do _you_ want?"

"I'm Charlie, and I don't take kindly to time-wasters, so what did _you_ want?" said the horse, crossing his hooves aggressively over the _do you even lift Bro?_ Tee stretched tight over his heavily muscled chest.

Nick stared for a moment.

"Well, this is awkward."

Downstairs at the apartment Judy got her notebook out and, despite the fact that she had a key, she let Aso open the door, because she wanted to get good intel out of the landlady and keeping her feeling empowered might make her more cooperative.

Looking past the federal crime scene tape, Judy saw that the room was even smaller than hers and about as Spartan: one narrow bed, cheap but respectable wallpaper over concrete walls, bare floor, not even a rug. And, surprisingly Judy felt, almost no sense of a person about the place: she'd barely been in her palace a day before she'd stated putting up photos of her family and of her class from the police academy, colonized it with appliances, and got a rag-rug. This room….

There was a huge, clearly home-made set of pine shelving, solidly bolted to the wall by someone who took their DIY seriously and stocked with identical sets of Spanish language versions of O'Reilly Media Guides, each with their distinctive woodcuts of famous programmers on the fronts, a few dictionaries and a coupple of books each in English relating to something called Wakanda 2.0, JCEE, and 4D, and a desk with a soldering station and a very conspicuous gap where Homeland security had taken away the Computer the day of the kidnapping, but other than that? Under the drifts of finger-printing powder and evidence tags, the room was almost painfully clean and orderly: every book on the correct alignment showing un-bent spines, the soldering station at right angles to the desk, the soldering iron dead centre and neatly alighted on the horizontal, the earth cable and clasps and magnifying glass lamp neatly back from it, and that was that. The room screamed computer programmer, and Spanish speaking, but other than that, nothing.

 _I wonder if Nick could get a scent of anything? No: if it were that easy the feds would have already perused that angle._ She realised.

Judy signed. "What can you tell me about Mister Méndez?" she asked the landlady.

The taller, gangly older rabbit shrugged, and leaded on the doorframe.

"Perfect tenant." She said bluntly.

"Oh, so you knew him well?" asked Judy, eagerly brandishing her notebook.

Aso laughed. "You've never rented out a room have you? Not, quite the opposite, hardly ever saw him. Like I said, perfect tenant: no noise, no mess, never complained, unlike some mammals I could name…" she said, glaring icily at the elderly cougar shuffling up the stairs to the next floor, muttering about the cold. "Paid his bills and rent on time, and in cash: exact amounts in my postal box. Didn't attend residents meetings, which shows he's smarter than I am, those things drag my dear, kept his bills small: next to no water or power usage, his mail box never overflowed, never had a loud party or brought back someone for loud sex, and in a block this small that's quite the blessing… hardly ever interacted with anyone. I feel bad saying this to a cop, but frankly I'd kill for six more like him."

 _Great._ Thought Judy. _Just great. No hobbies, No friends, no sex life, organized and pays his bills on time… what do I have to work with? Other than this crappy apartment you'd never even know he existed._

"Oh gods, please say I'm not like that…" muttered Judy, slicking her ears out of her face with one paw. "You mind if I have a poke around?" she asked, more for the look of it that because a no would have stopped her.

Aso shrugged again. "Be my guest… in fact if you're in the market…."

"I already have a place, thanks." Muttered Judy, stepping under the tape. "We'll just be a moment to investigate this, and then if we could ask you some question then we….. oh come on Nick, what's taking you?" she mused out loud when she realised she was alone.

* * *

"-And then stretch it out against the banister like this to clear out the cramp." Said Charlie, holding a hoof to Nick's back to help him keep his posture as he stretched out his leg. "You have _got_ to start doing warm-ups or this is going to keep happening, you know." Said the horse, stretching out on the stairwell next to him to show him the proper form.

"Yeah, I know….. thanks for the help, by the way." Said Nick, feeling the pain melt away. "So… are you, what, a personal trainer, sports physio, MMA coach, gym instructor, something like that?" he said, sighing with relief as the cramp eased up. He saw the next stretch the butch horse was going into and raised his hand to mimic, keeping the other at his waist as instructed.

"Metropolitan Ballet: the one advantage of being equine and only having one metapodia in each limb; what you lose in opposable thumbs you gain in standing _en pointe_." Said the horse, hoarsely, as he directed Nick into a _Tendu Side_.

"Oh." Said Nick, suddenly very conscious of how he must look, before shrugging. "Fair enough." So long as Judy didn't see him becoming an extra from _Fame_ he was fine with this, he thought, as an elderly Cougar paused on the stairwell and glared at him.

"Are you here to fix my heating?" she yelled, right up in his face.

"I have no idea what you're talking about ma'am." He said, without a moment's hesitation.

* * *

"Never mind." muttered Judy, checking behind the door, ducking under the crime scene tape and gloving up in the approved manner: the room had already been gone over top to bottom by the feds, and she didn't plan on touching anything she didn't have to but if some smart-Alek defence attorney asked her in a years' time, she wanted to be able to say that she took all reasonable precautions not to contaminate the scene. Once in the tiny room, she did a slow 360, rotating once and taking in the room in case she'd missed anything obvious when she'd looked from the doorway: both that and checking her six for threats, particular behind the door in case there was someone there, was something so drilled into her by Furschia that she didn't even realise she was doing it until Aso snorted once with sardonic amusement as she peered under the bed.

"I think you can rule out a kidnapper still being here." Said the older rabbit. Judy didn't answer, mostly because the horror stories about what happed to cops who _didn't_ make such basic checks were still somewhat vivid in her mind after the academy. According to Furschia they never did find the other half of Officer Meles, and if it could happen to an armed badger with full back up in a building full of cops, Judy wasn't taking any chances with just her and Nick.

There was a second sarcastic snort, and then a vulpine voice said. "Anyone under there, Carrots?"

"Not unless you count dust-bunnies." She said, placing a paw on the deck and easing herself back up into a standing position without looking around at Nick.

"-and even then, not many: this place is spotless." She said, noticing the bedding at her face height as she started to stand up, and pausing. It too was perfectly clean, neatly folded, hospital corners on the sheets, and the duvet smoothed down. She sniffed at the bedding, once, and poked at it with her pen.

"This bed hasn't been slept in."

"Méndez went missing nearly a week ago, hun." Said Aso, as Nick, cautiously, one ear up and one down with curiosity, made his way thought the web of crime scene tape and, after a brief moment trying to untangle his foot, went and squatted down next to Judy, and sniffed at the bedding too.

"But he still would have to have slept the somewhere the night before he went missing…. Heavy detergent, softener, scent boosters… starch?" asked Nick, nose twitching.

"Starched sheets." Confirmed Judy, poking at the bed again. "Who even does that anymore? The fed's may have re-made a bed after they striped it, but they wouldn't have but fresh sheets on, and they would re-make the bed the same way they found it."

"He always seemed particular. Maybe he changed his sheet daily." Suggested Aso, watching them from the doorway.

Judy shook her head. "Méndez reported for work every day at six… so unless he's changing his sheets every morning when he wakes up at five…. It seems a stretch."

"Plus there's no laundry basket." Said Nick, not looking up from sniffing at the sheets. "If he is changing them every day he's eating his linen for breakfast, because there's no place to put dirty laundry in the room. And that's a _lot_ of laundry products for a canine: I use unscented detergents, most of us do: this amount of fake floral scent would drive me mad if I tried to sleep in it." He glanced sideways at Judy, and then scratched his neck pensively, sending up a little cloud of red hairs. "What do you think Carrots…. Carrots?" he asked, concerned as Judy stared at his neck.

Judy looked down at her uniform: because she drove and Nick sat in the passenger seat, he was always on her right in blinky. The right side of her uniform was already well peppered with stray russet hairs.

"Nick… you're shedding."

"What? Oh, jeez. Sorry. Well that's embarrassing…"

"No… no you don't understand, Nick, I'm _covered_ in your fur! See?"

Nick glared. "Wow, way to rub it in Carrots." He muttered coldly, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I'm a fox and it's, unless you've not noticed, unseasonably warm, I'm going to moult a little in this weather: outside of tundra town every canine in the city will!"

"Exactly, and there's no fur on the bed, no hairs anywhere in the room! Nick… someone has tampered with this room before the fed's got here!" said Judy, eagerly punching Nick on the shoulder, and making a note of this in her notebook.

"Or Mister Méndez didn't sleep here the night before the raid on the lab." Said Nick, sitting on the edge of the narrow bed and rubbing at his shoulder.

Judy nodded along to what Nick said, and then turned to Aso.

"Ma'am, did you see anyone suspicious in or round the apartment the day before the disappearance, or in the days leading up to it?"

"No, sorry, I was visiting my sister in savanna central that week. She's been having some problems with her feet."

"Oh I'm sorry, nothing too serious I hope?" asked Judy, cocking her head on one side, concerned: leg injuries could be very serious for rabbits as she could tell people: she still got twinges from where she'd hurt herself in the museum.

"She can't get her husband out from under them. There's a creature that wouldn't work in an iron lung. Her fault for marrying a Temne, but what a good Krio girl to do?"

"Hurpmh. And you never saw anything suspicious here? Any strange visitors or any sign that Méndez was in trouble?" Judy asked.

"No, sorry." Said Aso.

Judy turned back to Nick, who was idly wandering along the book-shelf, head cocked on one side to read the spines.

"Anything?" she asked. Nick shrugged.

"Not much in the way of light reading: Not a single novel or magazine, not even any pornography. No games, CD's or DVD's either: Just stuff relating to programing and the Spanish language, and all new books… not a dog eared page or creased spine on them, all mint and unfoxed…well, slightly foxed now." He added, poking one "Who'd have thought it?" He said, as if he was hinting at something, but Judy couldn't tell what. "I sure hope that our missing coyote had some fun out and about, because he sure wasn't having any here." He added, before pulling out his phone and scanning the room with it. After a moment, he froze up, and pointed the phone in the corner.

"Oh. My. _God._ "

"What, what? Asked Judy, hurrying over, and kneeling in the corner to look at the skirting board where Nick was aiming his phone.

"There's an aerodacytil! Hah, Clawhauser's going to go green with envy!" said Nick, making the ball throwing gesture with his claw on the screen.

Judy sat for a moment staring into the corner, ears down and cheeks puffed up glumly, before standing up, striding over and grabbing Nick's phone and slamming it back in his shirt pocket.

"For goodness sakes Nick, can you at least try to take this seriously? That stupid gokemon game isn't going to crack this case! The next time you get your phone out it had better be to help with this case!"

"Sorry."

Judy snorted, spent a few minutes looking round the room, opening cupboards and draws for the look of it, but it was clear that the fed's had already done a good job: it was established procedure that when you tossed a room, if you had searched a draw, you left it part opened to indicate that it had been searched and prevent duplication of work, and every door and draw in the room was ajar. The room was as searched as it was going to get, and like the fed's before her, she was getting nothing.

Judy sighed, and walked back to the door, pulling off her gloves. "Well, ma'am, thank you for your time. If you think of anything else, here is my card, please call me if you remember something, no matter how minor it seems… Nick! Put your phone away!"

"Huh. Lousy wifi here…." He said. "Seems kind off odd that a computer engineer would put up with wifi this bad." He said, glancing meaningfully at Judy. "And besides Carrots, you did say that the next time I get my phone out, it had better help with the case… say, Aso? Do you have a photo of mister Méndez or something we could use for our case?"

The older rabbit shrugged, and shook her head, still leaning on the doorframe, arms folded.

"No, sorry. The fed's asked: if I had one I'd have given them it."

"Oh, that's okay…" said Nick, distractedly, playing with his phone again. "I mean, this guy is an undocumented worker, lived below the radar, it's not like he'd make his image easy for just _anyone_ to find… that him?" he said, getting up a full head portrait photo and showing it to Aso, phone raised over Judy's head.

The tall rabbit raised an eyebrow, then glanced to the phone once, and back to the fox. She then nodded.

"Yes, that's him. The skunk said you'd be good, _Compare Reynard."_

Nick immediately switched the phone off, and, grinning, stretched out both arms above his head, as if working a crick out of his back, getting it just out of Judy's reach as she jumped at the phone.

"Well isn't that nice of her to say that…. well, thank you for your time, we'll arrange a photo ID parade at the station for you to confirm this, nice to have met you. So, Judy, where now?"

"I…. How do you _keep doing that_ Nick!?"

"Well it's like I said, I know everyone Carrots… and even when I don't, I know how they would have done the crime if they were me, so that kinda means that if I know the how, then I know the who and the why, or can at least have a good guess at them. So… what now?" he said, pocketing the phone and standing with both paws in his pockets, staring at Judy. Judy fumed, and stamped her foot, rapidly.

"You're not going to tell me how you found photo of Méndez when even the fed's couldn't, are you?"

"Nope." He said, popping the p sound.

"And if I ask you to just tell me who to arrest you'll refuse, because we don't have the evidence, right?"

"Well, we're slowly getting there, but I don't have anything definitive yet, no."

Judy tapped a paw, and glanced from Nick, to Aso, to Nick again, and then nodded as she made her decision.

"Then we work the case, just like we would any other case, with no distractions. We've checked out the apartment: next stop we check out the Persian Embassy to see if there is any truth in this spy stuff or if anyone there might have wanted the project to fail, then we try the transit authority: they own and maintain the air pollution monitoring stations Safetynet was piggybacking off, maybe they know Méndez. If that fails, work the usual sources: check with Charites that work with undeclared workers and Persian cultural centres, someone in the city must know these two, if we cast a net wide enough someone will talk. "

"And if they don't?" asked Nick, following Judy as she walked out of the apartment, and locked up behind her.

Judy shrugged. "Then we'll have to hope you think of a way to prove your suspicions with evidence, because I know one thing, Nick, our perp won't be as easy to catch as in your stupid Gokemon game.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Nick and Judy arrived at the Embassy. Like many major foreign embassies, it occupied a prominent position in Savana central, unlike most it was a little east of the main CBD, in order to exploit better transport links to Sahara. It was a fairly unassuming late 50's modernist block, and since the revolution and Shah's overthrown in the 70's it had been slowly entombing itself in concrete roadblocks, tank-traps and blast screens until it resembled something out of Judge Dread more than actual architecture, the bullet-pocked and defaced ruins of the old Sun-and-lion crest of the Shah only partly covered by the huge green flag draped down the side of the building.

Those few mammals trying to get in and sort their business this late in the day had to walk through a complex maze of waist high concrete walls, metal detectors, and checkpoints before they even got close to the front gate, the occasional elephant or larger mammal cursing as they squeezed through them. As Nick and Judy pulled up to this wonderful example of what could be done with brutalist architecture and a scant disregard for people's comfort, trying to find somewhere to park the car, they realised the basic problem with this: Both embassy and the fed's didn't want anyone parking within a block of the embassy on the off chance that their trunk contained enough ANFO to put a sizable hole in the planet, and every parking space on the block had either had a concrete bollard placed in the centre of it to block it off, or was occupied by a series of identical dark station wagons with backed out windows and federal plates. Directly in front of the embassy entrance two wolves whose civilian clothes didn't even slightly hide the fact they were clearly marines with M4's hidden under their trenchcoats maintained a shift-by-shift staring contest with the two pale golden Persian lions in Republican Guard uniforms on the opposite side of the street, as their predecessors had for the past thirty-eight years.

"Wow. Friendly." Said Nick, glancing into the Doughnut shop opposite. Either there was a special on huge aggressive, suspiciously clean-cut mammals with camera cases, or there was a full platoon of plain-clothes marines trying to hide their guns and not die of boredom. "Judy, are we _really_ going in there? Because as much as I would like to crack this case, I'd like to do so without either getting shot or ending up as an extra in _Argo._ "

"Never saw that film, is it good?" asked Judy nervously as she noticed an Ibex in a bad suit and shades in the embassy line was glaring at her and having heated discussion with his wrist. He noticed her looking, and pushed to the front of the line and conspicuously pointed out Blinky to the lions on the door before vanishing inside. She glanced back to the wolves on the other side of the street, and accidentally made eye contact with one, who was holding a finger to a bluefang paws-free behind his ear and, unless she missed her guess, reading out loud her plate number in the NATO phonetic alphabet.

Both her and Nick watched this horrified for a moment, and the wolf shifted his stance slightly and reached a paw inside his coat, clearly trying to keep and eye on them and on the lions at the same time. Both Nick and Judy noticed that as he did, he shifted slightly to put an engine block between himself and them.

"It's okay, pretty good. Takes historical liberties for dramatic sakes you know? Makes the British embassy out to be dicks for no reason when they actually helped… not an action film but kind of tense, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah I get that." said Judy, swallowing nervously and keeping her paws where they could be seen, in order to avoid any unfortunate mistakes on the wolf's part.

"I'm… I'm just going to call Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez now Nick. Let her know where we are and see if she'd be free to come and vouch for us, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah good call." Said Nick.

It took under fifteen minutes for a dark blue car to pull up driving incredibly aggressively and with scat regard for the law, wind down a window and flash a badge at one of the near identical parked cars. The parked car reciprocated, and the window wound down and a heavy set wolverine leaned out and after a few moments talking, shielding his muzzle with a paw to hide his lip moments from the embassy opposite, he got out and waved to the wolf on guard and muttered something into his headset. The wolf visibly relaxed and then immediately ignored them and went back to giving the lion opposite him the stink-eye. The wolverine got back into his car and pulled away, and after a moment the new car pulled into the space, and ZG got out, stretching and looking bored.

"I leave you guys for one afternoon and you nearly start an international incident? Fast work _Güey._ " She said, sauntering up, almost bored.

"Although I admire your directness: almost all embassies use their diplomatic plates to rack up huge unpaid parking tickets and it's a major point of contention with the city; if you wanted to start a minor war, just turning up in a city ticketing buggy and staring meaningfully at them is a hilariously blunt way to do it _Conejita_."

Judy groaned, and let her head bang on the steering wheel.

"Is there anyone who _doesn't_ mistake me for a meter maid?"

"Well, if it helps the wolf was convinced you'd stolen a cart from a meter maid and were about to blow yourself up." Said the skunk, sardonically. "Surprisingly active imagination for a Jarhead, and having spent years in Quinatizoo, I know what I'm talking about."

"Hey, speaking of meter maids, didn't that car get clamped?" asked Nick, curiously. "Not that that's the big issue here, but I'm curious."

ZG shrugged, and grinned, leaning on the open doorway of the buggy.

"Oh, Special Agent Johnson threw a tantrum and stormed of, taking other Johnson with him and leaving me to deal with the car. Surprisingly once he was gone I was able to work things out in a civilised manner with the enforcement officer and she let me have the car back. But it's fine, I'm sure he didn't mind getting the subway home." She said, with studied innocence. "So, how's the case going for you two?"

Nick shrugged. "Could be better." He said, non-committaly.

"Nick has a photo of Méndez, and one of an as yet unnamed associate of Veisi, but he refuses to share them with me or tell me how he got them." Said Judy, keen to show off to the feds and still a little annoyed with nick. Nick groaned, inwardly.

"Well, I thought he'd be good. Well done, Zorro. Of course, if you don't eventually enlighten us officer Hopps would be well within her right to arrest you for obstruction and throw that beautiful bottle-brush tail of yours in prison, but I'm sure you have your reasons: let me guess… you can't prove a thing and need Judy to do the legwork and find some proof?"

"Ummm… actually yeah."

"Tcah!" said Judy "And he won't tell me how he got the photo because he say's it'll contaminate my thought process if I know you did it and try to fit facts to the theory, can you believe that?"

"Yeah, it's what I'd do." Said the skunk glancing from Nick to Judy with hooded eyes. "So, I take it this isn't a social call. What can I help you with?"

"Can you get us in there?" asked Judy, nodding her head towards the embassy.

ZG stared for a long time.

"I can clear it at our end so you don't get tailed on your way out: a uniformed ZPD officer walks into that embassy, homeland or the Bureau will want to know why and follow them out." she said, nodding up, once, Judy followed her eyes: in the room above the doughnut shop, a tapir striped to shirtsleeves and a tie was watching the embassy door with a telephoto lens and a directional mic.

"We at the bureau rent the upper floor of the building, the Defence Department owns the freehold, and the guys parked up outside are the Secret Service, although sometimes you'll see the NCIS or our cousins from Langley camping out here. Homeland barely even gets a shoe in, but when they need to they use me as their liaison with the Justice Department because, frankly, it's embarrassing when you spend six months and two million dollars on stake out trying to work out who the suspicious guys hanging around outside a foreign embassy are, only to find out they work for a different branch of the federal government and were thinking the same thing about you. I don't mean to brag, but it used to happen with depressing regularity, up to and including a secret cell of Iranian spies Homeland spent a year infiltrating only to find, when they swooped in to arrest them all, that every single member of the cell was, in fact, a double agent working for a different government agency, and since I've been liaison it's happened exactly never. Our end, I can sort things out. "

"But as for their end-" said ZG, nodding to the two lions on the embassy door. "We have no sway over them, they do what they decide to. But don't worry: the worst that could happen is they kick you out again. They haven't kidnaped on of our nationals for, oh, at least two months."

"Gee. Thanks" said Nick.

ZG laughed huskily, and wrapped on the roof of Blinky with her knuckles.

"Well, no time like the present." She said, as Nick nodded and, somewhat reluctantly got out to follow her. After a moment's hesitation he remembered the Federal parking permit ZG had given him earlier and dumped it on the dash.

"And I thought the TSA were bad at undercover." Said ZG dryly, walking past the doughnut shop full of marines.

"I'll say: that bear's still wearing his Westpoint ring." Nick said, slightly louder than necessary as they put the police lights on and dumped blinky on the sidewalk. The grizzly sitting with the yard-long camera case on his lap that totally didn't contain a gun heard this, panicked, and glanced at his knuckles.

"Made you look." Said Nick.

"Don't taunt the Special Forces, _Zorro_ , they're shy, and they tend to shoot people when they get nervous." Said ZG, stopping by her parked car and, very visiblely so that that Lions on the embassy door could see, unclipped her badge and holster from her waist and dropped them on her passenger seat to show she was unarmed before locking the car and crossing the street, signalling Judy and Nick to follow.

Judy and Nick hesitated, feeling tense, but then shrugged, and followed. What else could they do? They'd gone too far now.

 **K-topia all 90's marathon:** Fatboy slim; _Right here, right now._

The Ibex from the line to get in re-emerged and met them in the middle of the road, exactly half way between the embassy and the shop.

"Yeah?" he asked, with no trace of an accent. Judy was surprised to realise he was no older than she was.

ZG nodded politely to him in greeting, and then gestured them forwards.

"This is Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD, and Mister Nicholas Wilde, civilian consultant. They are investigating a missing mammal's case involving one of your nationals and were wondering if they could just ask you a few basic elimination questions-"

"All queries should go through the official channels. We are not in the habit of letting just any foreign agent walk in and start harassing our staff." Said the Ibex. ZG looked blankly at him for a moment, and then calmly said.

"We went thought the official channels last week and are yet to get an answer: this is a missing mammal's case, people's lives may be in danger, if you let myself and these two enter to just confirm on your computer system that Doctor Veisi is in fact a citizen of your natio-"

The Ibex laughed, nastily.

"You? _You?_ We screen everyone twice for weapons before they reach the front door: between your government, the alt-right, the Zionists and the Salafists we receive two credible bomb, chemical or bioweapon threats a month: we spend a third of our security budget trying to make sure that mammals carrying dangerous chemicals don't get into the line, let along the building, and _you_ want to walk in? Skunk? I don't think so."

Nick actually dropped his jaw a little at that, and Judy practically winced, but ZG was clearly made of sterner stuff because she quite calmly continued "Sir, I am a federal agent and as you clearly saw I am unarmed-"

"You'll never be unarmed. You can dress it up however you like, and dress yourself up as prettily as you want with your designer suit and your expensive perfume, but you're a bioweapon, pure and simple, and you do not enter a secure building, ever, under any circumstances. Your own government won't let your kind work in its overseas embassies without de-scenting because the risk of collateral property damage is too high, so why would we be that stupid? Turn around, and walk away, skunk: if you cross the threshold into the grounds you are on our sovereign territory and it will be considered an act of aggression, and we will defend ourselves… and in a more dignified manner than _you_ would. And besides, we don't let agents of foreign security or police forces enter, and both you and the rabbit are improperly dressed."

Zorilla-Gutiérrez stared for a long time with a cold, haughty calmness before turning gracefully on her heal and walking away head held high: the dignified effect only slight ruined by the fact you could hear her teeth audibly girding as she clenched and unclenched both fists. Judy, torn between trying to look professional and wanting to comfort her, hesitated, and then turned to follow her as the Ibex turned to leave.

"Wait."

The ibex paused, and turned his head to look back.

"So…. Police and government agents, can't enter… and I'm guessing this improperly dressed, modesty crap doesn't extend to males, right?" said Nick, indignantly, ears askew and eyes narrowed. "I mean, I'm a civilian, I'm unarmed and I'm about as modestly dressed as I ever get, so what? I can waltz in and ask questions but they can't? what sort of double standard is this?"

"Nick, just walk away, don't start a major diplomatic incident!" said Judy. Nick ignored her.

"Oh no, see, I think the diplomatic incident has already started because the thing is, one of the two mammals that's gone missing was, apparently, an enemy of the state to you guys, right? Working for our homeland security and not you guys, strict secularist, family fled after the revolution… seems like you guys have a lot of motive in this guy's disappearance: am I right? So, seems like the smart thing to do, if you don't want to suffer a cyber-attack, or for city construction workers to 'accidentally' cut the power and water lines to your embassy or one of those little petty things governments do when they get pissed at each other, would be to convince us that you've got nothing to hide, am I right?

"And yet you're not doing it so… either you are way, way more guilty than you look, or you don't have _any_ clue about what's going on and are trying to work it out just as bad as we are because you don't want to look stupid if the missing scientist turn up a block from here and you didn't even know he was there, right?" asked Nick, segueing smoothly from indignant to persuasive, just like he had when Bogo had asked for Judy's badge at Tejunga skytram.

"So, I'll tell you what: I'm going to show you a photo of one of the missing scientists, and all you have to do is say if you recognise them. Okay?" said Nick, pulling out his phone.

The ibex glanced around, and then muttered something into his wrist in Persian before saying. "All right, show me the photo and I'll see if it's anyone I know form our list of mammals of interest."

"Wilde, if you have a lead, and you share it with them, I will have to arrest you for sharing classified information with a foreign power. " warned ZG.

Nick glanced over, and waved the skunk away.

"It's cool, trust me on this!"

"I was serious when I said that!" protested ZG.

"So was I! This is important. So mister Ibex do you recognise this famed missing mathematician!" said Nick, brandishing his phone.

The ibex held Nick's gaze for a moment, and the sneered. "Sorry, never seen him before in my life."

Nick cocked his head on one side, as ZG swore and fumbled for her cuffs. "You sure?" asked Nick, almost teasingly. "You don't need to phone a friend?"

"Never in my life." Said the ibex, smugly.

"Oh… I find that a little hard to believe…especially given that this is just a picture of Gazelle." He said, turning the phone to show ZG and Judy because while he liked proving a point, he like not getting arrested even more. "Greatest pop star of our age, angel with horns, noticeably immodestly dressed, seems like you'd have noticed her around or seen her on tv somewhere." Smirked Nick, as ZG relaxed, put away her cuffs, and had to stifle some laughter.

"But you said never seen him before… _Him?_ You didn't even look at the picture, did you? But you stalled just long enough and called it in to get your boy over there to get a photo of my screen." Said Nick, nodding to one of the lions on the gate, who had produced an hi-res digital SLR wile everyone was distracted by Nick's showboating.

"Now, it occurs to me that if you already had the scientists in custody, you'd just refuse to talk to me, tell me to piss off because you've got no reason to talk to me: if you knew who you were looking for but were yet to get them, you'd just glace at my phone and check, confirm it quickly, but you didn't do that, you wanted to stall me and get a snapshot… so…. You have _no idea_ who we're looking for and you were hoping I'd let slip the ID of the missing scientist because you've got nothing and were just fishing, right? Judy, let's go, this guy's a dork and he's wasting our time." Said Nick, pocketing his phone and turning on his heal. The ibex looked shocked and offended.

"I was not fishing! We know all about your missing scientists!"

"Oh really? What's their names and species?" asked Nick, walking away. The Ibex opened and closed his mouth a few times like a landed fish.

"That's classified!" he said, after a while. "And I'm not a dork!"

"Oh, you are _such_ a dork!" said Judy, walking away. ZG took the time to give him a very rude and very old gesture known in some parts of the world as the fig, and then followed them back to Blinky.

"Okay, so embassy is a bust." Said Judy.

"Looks like it." Said Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez, giving Nick a sideways glance an then the tiniest nod of grudging respect. "So what was next?"

"Transit department, and then we do the final bit of legwork checking the usual routes the ZPD take when there are undocumented workers involved." Said Judy. ZG nodded

"And then?" she asked. Nick shrugged.

"If we don't have anything by nightfall we'll break and start over tomorrow. Are you free to meet up at any point?"

"Well, I'm supposed to be hunting down anyone who speaks Spanish, Johnson's orders, so I'm free all day, give me a list of half of those usual undocumented worker intel sources and I'll work the legwork for them, you hit the transit department and the other half, and I'll meet you at twenty-one hundred we can grab some food and go over this." Said ZG. "Know anyplace good to eat?"

"I know everywhere, but there's a really good place in the rainforest district if you like Vietnamese's food, Café Trần Kim Toàn." Said Nick.

ZG nodded, and got into her car.

"That was some fast thinking there with the Gazelle picture, Wilde, but something like this, you really can't skimp on the leg work. 90% of all policing is just walking and talking." Said the Skunk, getting in her car to leave.

"Well, don't worry I'm learning from the best." Said Nick, climbing into the car next to Judy. "Willing to bet you never missed a leg day. "he joked. Judy elbowed him in the ribs again.

"Mind off my legs and on the case, please." she cheerfully counter joked. "You keep on like that and people are going to think you're infatuated." She said with mock seriousness entirely unaware of the sudden gambit of emotions running across Nick's face as she said that while putting the buggy into drive. As she did the radio clicked on. It was Ed Bloody Sheeran again, Nick realised gloomily.

 _Oh boy, this is going to suck._ he thought. _Since when did cracking the case become the **easy** bit?_


	4. Case one, part four: Saftynet

**Case one: A class act.**  
 **Part Four: _Saftynet_**

Nicholas Piberius Wilde sat on the veranda of Café Trần Kim Toàn, 108 Saṃsāra ring road, rainforest district, stirring his Vietnamese iced coffee while Judy read the menu, and he tried to work the crick out of his neck: Blinky might be the hardest working three wheeled joke mobile in the city, but I was still way, way too small for him, and after a full day in it he was feeling it at every joint.

It had been a hell of a day.

There was a brief scrunch of tires on the broken asphalt, newly laid and already disintegrating in the unrelenting humidity of the Rainforest district. A dark blue car pulled up thought the near constant artificial rain and parked in a gap only inches bigger than it was with a level of élan that indicated either a very skilled of very reckless driver, and then the door popped and a large umbrella of funeral black appeared, followed moments later by Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez as she quickly and precisely stepped through the puddles, hurrying to stay dry. Cursing inventively in Spanish, she ducked under the dripping edge of the veranda roof and into cover. Spotting Nick, she hustled over.

"You know, its bad luck to have an opened umbrella indoors." Said Nick, by way of greeting. He got the umbrella aggressively shaken at him in reply, covering him in water droplets and forcing Judy to raise the laminated menu defensively.

"Don't talk about luck _Zorro,_ I've dragged my tail around every charity in the city that deals with helping undocumented workers. Have you ever seen how quickly mammals there stop talking when they see a federal badge?" she said, propping her umbrella against the table, half open. "It's twice as bad if you're female or Hispanic:" she said, flagging down a Water-Buffalo waiter for a menu without wasting any time. "Half of the mammals I spoke to called me a traitor for working for the feds, and every skunk I spoke to seemed to have a cousin or brother or friend looking to hook up with a nice girl of marriageable age: endless bossy old crones looking to play matchmaker, it was as bad as a family thanksgiving!" she said, scanning the menu laid flat on the table as she reached into the inner pocket of her suit.

Nick smelt the pack of menthols and moved the ash-tray over to her side of the table before she pulled it out, shaking a single cigarette out of the hole punched in the top with brisk efficiently and lighting up with a slim chrome lighter that was as stylish and ladylike as the way she smoked wasn't: she held her cigarettes cupped between thumb and fore finger with her fingers wrapped around it to shield it from the wind, like a soldier, and took big, decisive puffs like she was having a contest with herself on how quickly she could finish. Nick hadn't smelt cigarette smoke on her or nicotine in her system before, so he put her down as a quitter having a very bad day.

Given how the day had gone for him he didn't blame her.

ZG groaned, and tilted her head way back, stretching out on the chair, fingers and toes wiggling, before blowing out smoke and , without taking her eyes of the woven rice-straw ceiling handing the waiter her menu back.

"I'll have whatever the fox is having." She said, taking another drag, contemplating the thatch above her. "What's good here?" she asked, billowing smoke. Nick noticed that out of the two seats spare on the four seat table, she had sat herself on the one that put her down-wind of him and Judy and he wasn't sure if that was an intentional courtesy to avoid upsetting his delicate sense of smell with the smoke, or if she just did it automatically: most of the skunks Nick had ever met were at least slightly self-conscious, dispute the fact that unless they sprayed a skunk smelt no better or worse than any other mammal; for example, he'd never met one who didn't wear at least some perfume or cologne, and given the care ZG clearly put into her appearance it might figure.

"Well, the Coffee is to die for." Said Nick, handing his menu back to the waiter. "If you like a very tasty Rocket fuel, that is: as it turns out the Vietnamese don't believe in weak coffee. "

"Something I wish you had told me before I had three." Said Judy, foot tapping rapidly against the footrest of the swivel stool she was on.

"It perked you up."

"I spent ten minutes talking too fast for anyone to understand: there's perking you up, and then there's having heart palpitations and wondering if anyone else can see sounds, Nick." She said, trying to make sense of the menu again: it was in three languages: Vietnamese, French and English, and she was starting to suspect that whoever had translated it into English hadn't spoken Vietnamese and had gone off the French, which would have been far more re-assuring if whoever had produced the French translation had had a better grasp of Vietnamese. "What are you having Nick?"

"Papaya salad with crab and _Banh canh cha ca_ : it's a sort of Pho with fishcakes".

Judy gave Nick a blank look for a moment, and he realised she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Pho is a noodle soup ." he said. Judy looked unsure.

"Is there anything here that doesn't contain fish?" she asked, glancing around: she wasn't sure if Nick had noticed, or if he just thought it was normal, but the café he'd picked was very pred heavy in its clientele, more than 50%, and that was rare outside of specialist pred eateries, and that and the unfamiliar names on the menu was making her a little anxious about the food. A leopard on the next table was tucking into a salad that was mostly chicken-feet, and while Judy realised that while obligate carnivores needed to eat like anyone else, she'd always been a bit uncomfortable watching them do so.

"Sure, there's a vegan menu. You could try the glass noodles with tofu and mushrooms, they fry them with soy sauce, if you like an umami flavour you'll not go wrong."

"Glass noodles?"

"Thin rice noodles. They go clear when you cook them _conejita."_ Said ZG, still engulfing her cigarette and regarding the ceiling.

"Okay…and a starter?"

"You could try the vegan summer rolls."

"Summer… don't you mean spring rolls?" said Judy, nervously helping herself to bread from the basket in the centre of the table. She was surprised to find it was actually baguettes, but smaller, lighter and crisper than she was used to.

"Summer: they're basically like spring rolls, if they weren't deep fried, so lighter and less fatty. They generally contain some fired tofu or cold cooked rice noodle, grated carrot, lettuce, fresh mint, peanuts…." Nick heard a noise and looked down: at the mention of the delicious ingredients Judy had run to the counter to order summer rolls, leaving her stool spinning slowly behind her.

ZG snorted with amusement at that. "Well I guess that's one new cuisine you've won Podunk over to."

"Bunnyburrow: Podunk is in Deerbrook county." Said Nick, automatically. "And actually, that's two in one day: we had Lebanese for lunch. At this rate I'll have her trying sushi by the end of the month." He then noticed ZG, still leaning back, giving him an amused look from one half closed eye.

"What?" he asked. ZG smiled.

"Nothing, _zorro._ It's just I'm surprised. This is the first case you and Officer Hopps have worked together? "

Nick nodded, and ZG grinned, quietly.

"It's just you gel pretty well as a team for mammals who've not worked together before."

"We worked the _Nighthowler_ case together…"

"Yeah, because clearly _that_ worked out well for everyone involved… we're still all paws at the pumps to keep the city running with both the major and assistant mayor out. But fair enough," she said, grinding her cigarette out, in one strong, deceive twist, no ladylike little taps. She then shook out another cigarette and lit up. "If you can work well through that, I guess you can work well through anything. I don't know, it's just… you play off each other well, personality wise, like best friends: you don't see that as often with cops partnered together as TV would make you think. It's actually super cute."

Nick shuffled awkwardly on his stool, and then did what he always did when the feels got too real, and made a joke out of it.

"Well don't let Judy hear you say that, she thinks that _Cute_ is a little dismissive when applied to rabbits."

"Really?" said ZG, sounding amused. "That's adorable."

"I know, isn't it?" said Nick, leaning over the table, grinning. "I keep having to fight the temptation to wind her up, because she'd really adorable when she's angry, and if that fails she's supper sarcastic back at you and it's actuary pretty funny." He said laughing. "I mean, this one time…"

While he was talking, a family of Vietnam mouse-deer ducked into the cafe, looking for somewhere out of the rain to eat, chatting cheerfully. They then saw a fox and a skunk sitting prominently by the entrance, laughing and joking, and a leopard on the next table, and froze up, the sudden halt in movement subconsciously drawing Nicks eye, and he accidentally made eye contact with the mother, who's gaze momentarily flicked down to his teeth. After an unspoken glance between the mother and father, they carefully shepherded the children away, and walked back out into the rain, and went along to the Thai restaurant across the street.

Nick and ZG watched then walk away, and as always, Nick focused hard on not feeling it.

"Then again, I guess there's worse things that being called cute." He said. ZG shot him a sympathetic look, not ever bothering to add _you're telling me?_ As she cocked her tail to one side, using it to bock Nick's view of the departing family: he'd not realised he was glaring.

After a moment Nick took in a deep breath, and tried to continue as if he'd not seen that.

"But yeah. Working with Judy feels pretty fun." He added, hollowly, feeling anything but fun after that little encounter.

 _I mean, we beat Bellwether. We won. Is this winning? Is this what winning feels like? They_ _ **still**_ _get to chip away at you like that?_

ZG snorted, and smiled wanly.

 _In zootopia anyone can be anything_ Nick thought, half amused and half depressed. _These people, they be jerks._

"Ceviche" said ZG, after a pause.

"Huh?"

"Ceviche. Sushi is basically just rice, it's entry level stuff. Ten dollars says you can't get the _conejita_ to eat Ceviche cocktail by the end of the month. With _tostada."_

Nick grinned, grateful for the blatant attempt to change the subject.

"Oh, you're on."

"What's on?" asked Judy, staggering back to the table barely visible behind her plate of Summer rolls.

"Oh, not much Carrots: you left us two preds unattended for five seconds and without your civilising influence we both reverted to our primitive, savage ways and started talking about devouring raw flesh." Said Nick, blandly. "Technically ZG double -reverted to type, because she suggested tacos as an accompaniment. Next were going to run naked and insane into the street _Mazes and Monsters_ style."

The skunk snorted back laughter, blowing smoke out of nostrils, and made a rude hand gesture at Nick.

Judy sighed, plonked her tray on the table top, then Judy Hopped up on to her stool.

"Just to check, the jokes about the stupid press conference, which, again, I apologise unreservedly for, are the preds I work with _ever_ going to get bored doing that, or will it follow me to my grave, yanno, out of interest." Said Judy, munching on a roll to try and hide the fact that she still felt like the world's biggest heal every time it came up.

ZG and Nick shared a look.

"No, I pretty much think that'll stay funny forever Carrots." Said Nick, mock seriously. ZG nodded along with the joke, although as she watched from under her hooded eyes she could tell that neither of them was quite over what was said at that press conference and they were both putting a brave face on it.

"So," she said, making both Nick and Judy focus on her. "The case, any progress, or was your day as much a colossal waste of time as mine?"

"Oh, a colossal waste of time." Said Nick, helping himself to a summer roll to Judy's instant mute objection, and dunking it in the rice-vinegar dip. "Where to begin?"

 **Flashcut**

Nick and Judy sat outside the Embassy in Blinky, Watching ZG drive off while Nick listened to the radio and glumly wondered why Ed Sheeran was the one person in Westeros Arya _hadn't_ murdered on sight.

"So… what now Carrots?" he asked.

Judy shrugged. "Transit Department owns the pollution monitoring stations _SaftyNet_ is piggybacking off." Said Judy, not noticing the dirty look she got from a passing hog at that term. "I guess we drive up to the heights and call on the Transit division." She said, referring to the ZDP transit division HQ at 130 John Rowlands Street, Tundra heights. She was a little unsure about that: The transit department fell under the jurisdiction of Chief of Department Thidwick, not chief Bogo who was Chief of Citywide operations, and acting Chief of Patrol since Chief Wainwright crippled himself during that thing with the spaghetti . The department chiefs of the ZPD were notoriously territorial, and she'd heard it rumoured that there was bad blood between Thidwick and Bogo. Technically she didn't have any authority within the transit department: they had been an entirely separate police department from the ZPD until '99, and still considered themselves largely apart from the ZPD.

She explained this to Nick.

"But there's a chance that they might not help us, there's a long standing rivalry between Transit and the rest of the ZPD, and when Bogo convinced the commissioner to put parking under the control of individual borough commands rather than Transit it cut off a lot of their funding, we go in there in a precinct one ticketing buggy, well, forget the embassy, that _will_ be an all-out declaration of war."

"So…. What? We get the subway?" asked Nick.

Judy shook her head. "No, we can't just abandon Blinky in the street. We'll just park up a block or so from transit HQ and walk." She said, swinging her legs down from Blinky.

"Umm, carrots? Unless Tundra Town moved while I wasn't paying attention, we're a _lot_ more than a block or so from transit HQ." Judy looked back at him, walking along backwards for a bit.

"Peace offering!" she said, jerking a thumb towards the donut shop the fed's used as a front to spy on the embassy. "Nick, you can't just turn up at another cops precinct or department HQ and _not_ bring donuts! We'd get lynched!" she said, only half joking: police officers tended to be highly territorial, and the fact that so many of them in zootopia were wolves didn't help.

Nick sighed theatrically, but tried to hide a slight smile as he slipped down and followed Judy into the shop.

"Donut mess with a cop, got it." He said. Judy rolled her eyes at the awful pun, but got in line anyway, Nick dropping into position next to her. As always he felt the slight spike of anxiety he invariably felt when in a line to buy snacks, and subconsciously checked he actually had money in his wallet.

 _God, what if they refuse to serve me?_ He thought, knot of tension in his stomach. _It's fine when you're_ _ **hoping**_ _to get refused service as the opening move in a con… but now…._ He checked his wallet again, without realising he was doing so, while Judy placed her order.

"-and two dozen mixed glazed please. Right, that should be enough as a peace offering, oh, and a box of apple fritters for me. Nick, you want anything? They have donut holes."

Nick snapped out from checking he actually had money the third time in forty seconds. "What? Oh, no. I'm cool…. Seriously Carrots, you're buying more food? We had lunch like, an hour ago."

"Umm, yeah, it was _an hour_ ago. I'm hungry again, it's been a tough day, I've brunt a lot of calories." She said, paying, and Nick helped Judy with the two huge boxes of donuts that would hopefully buy them safe entry to the mythical transit department.

 _Maybe it's some sort of Red Wedding stuff where they can't harm us once they share our food._ He thought, jokingly. _God, cops are weird._

"Well, you should have eaten more at lunch then shouldn't you? If you're hungry just drink a glass of water." He said without even thinking about it, as he dumped the boxes of donuts behind the traffic cones on the back of Blinky and started to help Judy strap them down with bungee cables. As he did, he noticed the weird look Judy was giving him.

"What?" he asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing it's just… Just drink a glass of water? Slightly weird thing to say Nick."

"Is it?" said Nick, hiding the rising panic with practiced ease. "Well, maybe I'm just more health conscious than you are, hate to see you end up like Clawhauser and ruin that figure."

 _Oh my god, why did I just say that!?_ he thought, horrified. _Open mouth, insert footpaw. Rinse, Lather, Repeat._

Fortunately, Judy laughed it off. "Okay, so long as you don't turn into a health fad nut like Remes. I've got a smaller stomach than you, Nick, I couldn't have eaten any more at lunch if I tried, we can't, well, wolf down food like you canines do."

"So, what… you're just going to spend all day grazing at snacks?" asked Nick.

"Umm, yeah, I am actually, because I'm a _rabbit_." She said, popping a mini apple fritter in her mouth. "Grazing's kind of what we do. Duh." She said, offering him a fritter to show there was no hard feelings.

"Huh… okay, you got me." He said reluctantly taking the fritter, and waiting for her to take a bite of her next one before eating it, only after he did it realising that he was waiting for her to finish her bite before eating himself. _Great, and now you're lapsing into canine symbols of deference. God Nick, you've got the hots for her bad, don't ya?_

"So where now?" he asked, speaking around a mouthful of hot apple and cinnamon sugar as politely as he could.

Judy adjusted the rear view mirror in a surprisingly badass manner for such a mundane task.

"Now? Into hostile territory, Watson , to the transit department!" she said, putting pedal to the metal.

 **K-topia all 90's playlist:** the Offspiring: _Come out And Play._

ZG stared over her bowl of Pho at them, wreathed in curtains of fragrant steam as she poured her side plate of herbs and beansprouts onto the top of the bowl.

"You realise you could have just cut to the bit where you arrived at the transit department? You didn't have to actually narrate the act of getting donuts to me." She said, slurping up a noodle with surprising delicacy, and chewing. "I mean, yeah it's nice to know that I'm not the only one trapped in an unending jurisdictional pissing contest, but seriously, cut to the chase!"

Nick paused, chewing his way thought some particularly good crab-cake he'd found in his soup, before swallowing and replying.

"Sorry, I guess I need to work a bit on the structure of my storytelling." He said, fiddling with his chopsticks. Judy looked on with envy, the glass noodles were some of the best food she'd ever eaten, but she was really struggling with her chopsticks: Bunnyburrows only had one Chinese restaurant and her parents had never eaten there all that often. She was a little clumsy with chopsticks, so the fact that Nick could happily eat _soup_ which his and not make a mess was kind of rubbing it in; she noticed he ate in a very slow, neat controlled manner, and she wondered if her jab from earlier about wolfing food down had made him self-conscious. _Then again, he was always very neat and clean with food, eating efficiently and with no waste, look at the shrew wedding._ She thought, trying to remove the nagging guilt from her mind. They both had a few insecurities because of the way their species were generally seen, and Judy still wasn't sure exactly where all of Nick's were, but he seemed weirdly vulnerable when he was eating.

She noticed Nick and ZG looking at her. "What?" she asked, before misreading their looks and turning to Nick, shielding her mouth from ZG with one paw. "Do I have something stuck in my teeth or something?" she hissed. Nick looked down. There was a noodle actually hanging off one of Judy's ears.

"No." he said, completely honestly, mentally filing away the memory in his private collection of hilarious moments. "Nothing in your teeth."

"There's a noodle on your ear. Play nice Nick. No, I was wondering if you'd take over, seeing as Nick's storytelling is a little… meandering." Said ZG, as Judy frowned, kicked Nick under the table, and scowled up into his toothy grin, removing the errant noodle in a moment.

"My pleasure." Said Judy. "Where were we?"

"Donuts." Said ZG. "So, how did things actually go with the transit department?"

"Ah… _that._ " said Judy, looking down glumly and poking her food with her chopsticks.

 **Flashcut.**

The box of donuts practically jumped off the desk as both of Chief Thidwick's fists slammed into the desktop, making Nick and Judy jump too. Moose may look sort of dopey and laid back from a distance, but sharing a small room with an _extremely_ angry bull moose up close and personal is utterly terrifying. Moose are loud, and aggressive and, importantly, big. Really, really big: like, way bigger than they look. In fact if you're fox or rabbit sized, they're completely enormous. They both shrunk back a little into the uncomfortable ZPD issue chair they were sharing, as Thidwick the High Blood-Pressured Moose let rip.

"YOU. WANT. _WHAT!?"_ he yelled, going full super- saiyan Brian Blessed on them .

"We, errr, sir, we were wondering if you could kindly give us a list of who in your office might have worked with Lucian Industries in conjunction with the _SafteyNet_ project. We… we have a few questions concerning two of their technicians who has gone missing, and any info, or just anyone who had bet the individual in person would be helpful to help us generate incident-able actions for my incident list. Failing that, we should talk to anyone who worked on the project just to to eliminate them from our inquiry… um… please… sir." Said Judy, nervously.

 **Flashcut.**

"Wait wait wait." said ZG, holding up a paw while trying to saw her last floating crab cake in half with the side of a chopstick. "Did you just mention the name of the highly classified project without getting the okay from homeland first?"

Nick and Judy shared a worried look.

"No?" answered Nick, as if testing out if that was the correct answer, only slightly undermined by the fact Judy said _yes_ at the exact same time.

ZG glared.

"Well we did tell you we were going to talk to transit, and you let us! And besides, Chief Thidwick would have to be on it, it was his department owns the _Safteynet_ base-stations!" protested Judy, slight guiltily, flicking though her noodles with a chopstick: the menu description had said there was coriander leaf in this, something she'd never heard of before, but she couldn't seem to find any. Maybe it was hiding under all the cilantro.

"I didn't mean mentioning it to to Chief Thidwick, I meant just _now_." Said ZG, pouring _trà nhài_ jasmine tea "As in, in this crowded and very public café." The skunk held up a paw, "You know what, my bad for discussing this over dinner. That's on me. Let's… let's just carry on, but be a little less blasé about mentioning technical details or codenames in public, okay? Start over."

Judy took a mouth full of noodles, swallowed, nodded, and started over.

 **Flashcut.**

"YOU. WANT. WHAT!?" Thidwick yelled, going full super- saiyan Brian Blessed on them . He had a slightly Norwegian or Swedish accent, second or third generation, and if he had been less terrified of the moose Nick could have made about a dozen _Fargo_ jokes.

"We, errr, sir, we were wondering if you could kindly give us a list of who in your office might have worked with Lucian Industries in conjunction with certain routine modifications made to the pollution monitoring systems . We… we have a few questions concerning two of their technicians who has gone missing, and any info, or just anyone who had bet the individual in person would be helpful to help us generate incident-able actions for my incident list. Failing that, we should talk to anyone who worked on the project just to to eliminate them from our inquiry… um… please… sir." Said Judy, nervously, breath showing in the air: the small, cluttered, windowless room that was Thidwick's office was rimed with frost, and the squeaking desk-fan in the corner by the file cabinets kept basting frigid air over her. Nick had fluffed up his fur, and was hugging his tail defensibly as the cold air and Thidwick's shouting washed over him.

"Eliminate them from your inquiry? You _waltz_ into my office with your tin-shield and cheap donuts, bring up a highly classified project without any warning or explanation as to how you're involved, bring a civilian, no, not just a civilian, a damn _fox_ with you, and then you dare to _insinuate_ that my officers would need eliminating from this inquiry as if there was some possibility of impropriety on my departments part?"

"Ummm, well sir that wasn't my intention, I have nothing by the deepest respect for the transit department and, sit, if you don't mind my saying making Mister Wilds' species an issue in this is a bit… well…."

"Oh for the love of god, Judy, time and a place!" said Nick, eyes wide and ears flat as Thidwick leaned down with a head about the size of him and Judy combined and abrasively snorted at them, weird Moose neck-scrotum thing swaying. It took all of Nick's self control not to flinch back, and even Judy leaned back a little further into the chair as Thidwick lowered his voice and severely eyeballed them at close range.

"Okay, you clearly need the carrots raked out of those colossal ears, so listen to me _very_ carefully officer Hopps: you are an upjumped hick political-appointment foisted on the ZPD as part of one of Mayor Lionheart's _many_ propaganda schemes , and effectiveness or otherwise of the mammal inclusion initiative aside, you are still a glorified meter maid with no street experience, little to no knowledge of just how _hard_ real cops have to work it just to get by and make a difference in this town, and I think the smartest move Bogo ever made was assigning you to shepherd the fox around, because that way when this so called civilian contractor inviablely implodes and breaches procedure and ruins whatever case he's on it won't taint a real officer by association, and with a little luck, that will be the end of your farcical, so called police carrier.

"And that will be better for everyone, because if you continue with us here at the ZPD, I can grantee you, Miss Hopps, that sooner or later you will get bored of playing dress-up make-believe and slink off back home to the farm, tail between your legs, and that every second between now and then you're just parasitically leaching resources away from the ZPD that could be spent on real officers, Miss Hopps." He growled, his scowl reflected in Judy's wide eyes, as her nose twitched and ears drooped.

Nick stopped shrinking back, and glared, equally angry and disgusted.

"Hey, now I don't know what your problem with Judy is…"

Thidwick reached down and pulled open his desk draw, the rime around it cracking like a gunshot, and reached in and then slammed a folder down onto the desk, making Nick and Judy both jump a little as photos spilled across the desk. Nick was too startled by the sudden noise to pay much attention to the photos, but Judy's eyes flicked down, and she groaned inwardly when she saw they were largely of the subway platform they'd wrecked at the natural history museum.

"Do you know how much it costs the city just to have a subway car on the wrong sidings for an hour? Not on the main track, just on a siding, where it shouldn't be, so that the other cars that need to use that siding have to re-schedule their routes, what that does to the timetables, the delays, the lines forming at the ticket barriers at the stations, the extra resources for crown control to stop commuters from accidentally shoving each other of the platform and onto the rails? It's about twenty grad, per car, per hour, if they're on the wrong, _damn, SIDING!"_ yelled Thidwick.

"And that is literally, the best case scenario for a major problem on the subway: we get a jumper going under a train, or gods help us, some mammal trying to do Darwin a favour and going onto the live rail to pick up the smartphone they dropped, were looking at fifty grand in initial policing and repair costs, not counting counselling for the poor driver. A bomb scare, which we get about every six months, we're looking at at least a hundred g in overtime bills alone from policing it. And you know, I used to think a major bombing was literally the worst thing I was ever going to see policing the subway. I'd built myself up for that, prepared mentally, and every time I saw what was left after someone went under a train, or if there was a particularly nasty rape or murder on the subway, or that time a damn fool Officer Higgins mistook a a pager for a gun and tied to taze a skunk in the middle of Savana Central Station in rush hour, I thought, well, at least it's not a bombing, nothing will be worse than that.

"So when some mammal decides to take a _mobile drug lab_ in a subway car, filled with explosive gas bottles and a chemical weapon that turns mammals savage, and _without any formal training in how to drive, or for that matter stop, a train,_ drives it though the city centre during the _peak of rush hour,_ and then decides to play chicken with a _Rhino industries heavy freight train_ that was carrying _twenty, TWENTY, one_ _ **thousand**_ _gallon liquid storage carriages full of biodiesel_ to the main rail re-fulling station, forcing it to change course unexpectedly and end up wedged between platform nine and ten of savanna central because it's wider than the gap between the platforms, forcing _a full evacuation of the station,_ which my officers can't then carry out in accordance with our main evacuation plan because we hear _explosions_ coming from the abandoned station under the natural history museum and think it's an attack on the main square, and so can't evacuate via that route and we have several thousand terrified commuters trapped inside with no idea what's happening, two of the major commuter lines out of the city centre completely disabled, and a third out of use because _you threw someone off a moving train and there is a sheep with his spine wrapped around a goddam junction_ lever for the paramedics to deal with and it all happens _on my wedding anniversary when I had a booking for_ _ **that nice bistro I like that does the REALLY GOOD PUMPKIN RISOTTO!**_ Then that's when I have to re-evaluate my definition of worst case scenario, Officer Hopps!" screamed Thidwick, bellowing and blowing strings of moose spittle all over to two of them.

"Two millions dollars in actual damages to the two stations, a hundred thousand in relaying track where your car slid sideways over then, eighty grand of signalling equipment and a city subway car destroyed, two-thousand mammal hours of police overtime, lawsuits from commuter's up the wazoo, calling out and then standing down the national guard, it being an utter miracle no one was killed and _I really really love that pumpkin risotto and I missed if because of you, and now my Marge still hasn't forgiven me for missing her anniversary!_ Two point five million dollars out of my departments budget and I haven't had sex or Pumpkin Risotto since ** _and I Blame you!_** I mean, you didn't even get arrested: you got a god dammed formal commendation for bravery and I got shafted fixing the mess you made! _"_

 _"OUT!_ Get _out!_ If I ever, **_ever_** see the two of you again, I swear there's no force in the world that'll save you! Goring you to death is too good for you… you… _hijackers!_ I _**ever**_ see hide or hair of you, and I swear, I'll chain the two of you to the back of a tram and drag you very slowly around the city's cobbles until all that's left of you is several miles of road-rash and two fluffy little tails that I'll hang of my antlers as ornaments, paint my nose red with you blood and call myself Rudolph!"

"So….. I guess you _won't_ help us with this case?" asked Nick, smiling awkwardly while he tried to hide behind Judy just in case the guy went full on wood-chipper scene on him.

Thidwick flipped his desk over, and ripped the door open revealing the ceiling-tilled and coffee stained testament to early 90's institutional architecture that was the transit division HQ, and pointed across the lobby to the exit, to the noticeable surprise of the various polar bears, wolves and elk that had gattered around Judy's donut offering like ravenous crabs around a beached whale.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUT!" bellowed Chief Thidwick, forcing Nick and Judy to practically sprint from the room, ears flat and eyes wide with panic.

 **Flashcut.**

"Wow." Said ZG "Just wow." She said. There was a pause where they all gloomily contemplated just how badly that had gone.

"On the other hand, how good must that Pumpkin risotto be if he kept bringing it up?" said the skunk after a moment, pouring more tea.

"I know, Right? I'm kind of intrigued." Said Nick, holding out his cup so ZG could top him up. "I wish I'd got the name of the restaurant off him before he went all Jack Torrance on us. I really want to try it now."

"So, after that?" asked ZG.

"Well…" said Judy.

 ***Montage cut of various scenes spliced togeather.*to Foo Fighter's _Learning to fly_  
**

 **Nick and Judy standing in grimy slush-filled alleyway between a bowling alley and a bodega, Judy chatting to a polar bear Traffic cop, while Nick shivers in the background and the sun slowly sets.**

"When I went to pick up what was left of my donuts after Thidwick threw us out, I noticed one of the Officers there had a clipboard with a schedule on it… a schedule for repairing the Pollution Monitoring stations, and Nick pointed out to me he had an Ice Bay Packers key-ring on his belt, so we waited outside the transit department for him to come out, ambushed him with small talk, Nick mentioned the start the Packers were having to their season and I offered donuts to get him to lover his defences and then name-dropped Drill Sergeant Furschia: Transit or no transit, all ZPD officers who've been thought the academy in the last ten years will know her, and any older cops know her by reputation, so that got him opened up enough to let us see the maintenance schedule for the _SafetyNet_ grid…"

 **Judy and the polar bear shake on it and Judy uses her phone to photograph the paper work, while in the background a truck zooms past and sprays Nick with freezing slush.**

"it turns out that Menéndez had a fairly fixed schedule , and one that unfortunately for us doesn't seem to have synched up _at all_ with either city maintenance workers or transit cops, so the cop we spoke you had never seen him out or about, although he did claim to have smelt small amounts of _Nighthowler_ at some of the stations, suggesting that Mendez was heading out there with samples to test them. Weirdly, not for some months now, and while he's never met Menéndez, he did recognise Remes's from a phot, saying that he'd seem him working on the stations, but again, not for several months. So, we checked the stations, and the order the Schedule Remes's was supposed to check them in….

"Biome-divide one, highway one tunnel, tundra side….

 **Judy uses her phone light to examine a grey metal box with some basic weather station kit on the top, while Nick sits and shivers in Blinky, pulled over on the side of the great air-conditioning wall that separates Tundra from Sahara. Approaching headlights, then a second truck passes and sprays him with melting snow again.**

"Nothing there, but I got the number of the traffic camera overlooking the site. The next site was Biome-divide one, highway one tunnel, Sahara side… again, nothing…"

 **Judy using a skeleton key from her ticketing buggy opens up a Fiberglas cactus with solar panels and a wind-gauge growing out of the top and peers inside while Nick dries himself with the giant heaters mounted on this side of the biome wall, ruffling up his fur contentedly. City bus zooms past, trailing a small dust devil that hits Nick and covers his wet fur with sand while a newspaper smacks into his face and wraps around his head and he falls over, flailing.**

"Then the routes between Sahara and Savana central and Little Rodentia.

 **Judy interviews a family of gerbils who's apartment block is built into the side of a roadside traffic monitoring station, while Nick aggressively scratches off irritating dried-on sand, newspaper from before rolled up into a tube so he can reach the small of his back. A small cascade of sand from his fur buries a passing shew, and Nick panics and tries to dig them out on all fours before Judy notices what he's done, and the shew aggressively bites him on the thumb as he pulls them out, making his eyes bulge as he struggles not to scream.**

"then the mid-town expressway…"

 **Judy, leaning on a pollution monitoring station between the sky-scrapers of the CBD and interviewing two Racoon city workers as they empty recycling bins into the back of a refuse truck. Nick loitering in the background, sucking on his wounded thumb before a getting caught in headlight, a horn blares , and he has to jump out of the way of a second garbage truck that goes hurtling past with two racoons on the running board. The wind from it passing whips the newspaper into his face again.**

"And then checked out four different monitoring stations controlling movements between Rainforest and it's neighbouring biomes."

 **Judy, wearing her Meter-maid hat with a transparent waterproof cover and high-visibility raincoat, elbow deep in a bromeliaed, pulling out a water quality monitoring device while Nick huddles in the background, trying to use the newspaper to shield himself from the rain. A truck hurtles towards the large puddle next to him, and he neatly side-steps behind Blinky to avoid the spay, and smiles smugly as the truck retreats into the distance, at which point a large topical leaf directly above him collapses under the weight of the rain and dumps a bucket-full of water and a family of small fogs directly down the collar of his shirt.**

"Oh _COME ON!"_ yells Nick.

 **Flashcut.**

"Wait." Asked ZG, finishing up her soup. "You nearly got hit by a garbage tuck? You? I thought you were meant to have the good sense of smell out of us three, and you didn't pick up _that?_ "

"The wind direction was wrong." Muttered Nick. "It blindsided me."

ZG snorted, half amused, and then massaged the bridge of her nose.

"And then you realised that I'd already run down all those leads and got diddly squat, and because you were in Rainforest anyway, you called it a night and came here?"

"Oh I _wish._ " Muttered Nick. "You've clearly not worked a case with Judy when there's a deadline looming. As if she'd quit that easy."

ZG pushed her empty bowl of soup aside, and picked up a cup of fragrant jasmine tea and stepped her fingers with it in front of her, sipping daintily. "Okay, so then what?"

"Well." Started Judy….

 **Even** ** _faster_** **montage, with Judy speaking extremely rapidly as the scenes flash by.**

"We still had the city centre Pollution Monitoring stations to chase down, the CCTV to review, and a lead I wanted to follow at the ZU Tech hub on the Zootopia University Campus, so we took the Canal District viaduct from Rainforest out of town to ZU and I called in to Central to get Clawhauser to set up permission for me to review the CCTV using a virtual desktop on one of the computers at the ZU library….

 **Nick, soaking wet and terrified, clinging to the dash of Blinky as Judy Drives at high-speed over a dark, narrow road with a raised canal on one side and a perilous drop to the moonlit bay on the other while also using the car's radio.**

"So we got in, spend about an hour scrolling thought the bits of CCTV that you and Homeland had already flagged, confirmed that early in the _Safey Net_ project that an unidentified canine had visited and tested several of the instillations, but the CCTV on all our sites was ALPR, optimised on the traffic, and the individual seen was outside of the focal depth of the camera in forty-nine of the sixty sightings, random local canines already ruled out of the investigation in six cases, and Lucian Remes in the first five sighting, as corroborated by his version of the events, where he was working alone at the start of the project before hiring either Menéndez or Venis. I then quickly went through the times where Menendez should have been there according to the maintenance schedule, but again, the cameras are aimed to catch licence plates so, the angles and focal depth make pulling head shots next to impossible on most of the sites, so the CCTV was a bunk. I also looked over the CCTV from the Lucian industry's labs again, and it's as described, shows Remes, Menéndez and Veisi arriving and leaving each day, but too grainy to pull decent mug-shots."

 **Montage of increasingly despondent and bored Judy sitting on a stack of library books to raise herself up high enough to see the computer, lit only by the faint blue glow of the screen as in the background Nick dries himself cat-like by licking a paw and rubbing it on his ears. Part way through, a tiny brightly coloured frog hops out of his shirt and lands on his wrist. He accidentally licks it, and his eyes suddenly go wide, pupils dilating to fill the entire eye, and then he falls backwards off his chair.**

"And then while Nick was being dealt with by the campus medics and the school of tropical Batrachology, don't ask, I drove to one of the Tech companies in the Start-Up hub surrounding the campus. One of Lucian Industries' main competitors is based there, one that was offered the contract for _SafetyNet_ and passed on the chance, and I managed to bluff my way in and chat to one of their managers, who was surprisingly quick to diss on Remes.

"Apparently the big consensus was that the maths for _SafetyNet_ was either way, way too complex to ever be fixable, or if it was the cost of mammal-power involved would make it unprofitable to do so. Several companies passed on it, looking for easier and more profitable government contracts, like voter registration software, defence software, Medicare, or tendering for IRS contracts, and the guy I spoke to was kicking himself that he passed on _SafetyNet_ once he heard that Remes had got it working on time and on budget. Apparently, Venisi and Menéndez must be miracle workers, because no one thought you could do that with three mammals and, and I quote here "A measly, Piddling twenty mil", and as soon as he found then Remes let the rest of his staff go as surplus to requirements, so perhaps a rival company wanting to poach the talent, or a disgruntled former employee had something to do with the kidnapping…. But you'd already chased those down Special Agent, and got nothing, and neither did I.

 **Judy making notes, as a wombat in an "ElysiumDotNet" polo and wire framed glasses pours coffee for them both and discusses computing while in the background Nick drools into a stretcher as a tree-kangaroo and a pangolin in scrubs administer an emetic.**

"And then we drove in to the city centre to check a few more of the pollution monitoring stations and report in to my shift comander. Nick was feeling a little… off… and the paramedics said to line his stomach, so we stopped for ice-cream."

 **Judy driving down a dark highway, with Nick propped up next to her, eyes still incredibly dilated, staring dead ahead non-responsively, ice cream come held in one paw, slowly melting.**

"..and then I found some guy lying in the street so I called it in as a hit and run, but in fact he was just drunk, so I gave him a ride to ZPD HQ to sleep it off in one of the cells."

 **Judy driving down a dark highway, with Nick propped up next to her, eyes still incredibly dilated, staring dead ahead non-responsively, ice cream come held in one paw, slowly melting, but now with a drunk porcupine in a hoody wedged next to him strapped in with the same seatbelt, licking at Nick's ice-cream until it melt and falls into Nick's lap.**

"And then we came here. Did I miss anything?" asked Judy, finishing her noodles.

"No, that seemed to be more or less it." Said Nick, scratching at his neck and pulling out a porcupine quill, which he then threw in his empty noodle bowl. "Your worked your tail off, and we still struck out."

"Welcome to policing." Said ZG. "So… you did _all that_ in just a couple of hours?"

"Umm, yeah well, I had to work the case, and It was just a few things I needed to check…."

"So you drove half way across the city in that… that _joke mobile_ , interviewed several mammals, re-checked all the CCTV just in case we'd missed anything at Homeland, and then stopped off at ZPD H to check in with your shift commander _before_ coming here?"

"ummmm, Yes?" said Judy, nervously looking up at ZG through the cloud of steam rising from her tea-cup.

"How?" asked ZG half-jokingly. "Did you fly backwards around the world like superman, or was it more some sort of time-freezing thing _Super_ _Conejita?_ " she glanced at Nick, "Does she ever rest?"

"Not so you'd notice." Said Nick glumly looked into his empty bowl and feeling like he'd not done as much work as Judy. "I think she has some sort of machine to do that for her."

ZG laughed musically, lighting up again now that they had all finished eating, and Judy stuck her tongue out a Nick rather than reply to that, and scanned the menu looking for the desert section.

"It's called work ethic, you should try it sometime Nick….Deep fried Ice cream? How and why? Is… is that a Vietnamese thing?" asked Judy

"Probably not in Vietnam, but here? Sure: in the 60's tempura places in zootopia started to do deep fired ice cream, and now it's super popular in basically every south-east Asian restaurant. It's actually pretty goo…." Nick looked down at the spinning stool where Judy had been .

"Huh, guess she's sold on that idea." Muttered Nick to himself, while ZG snorted sardonically and smoked.

After a moment Nick noticed ZG watching him thought the haze of blueish smoke.

"What?" he asked, a little self-conscious.

ZG took in a long, slow drag.

"You know who did this, don't you? I mean, it's not just a theory, you _know:_ I can see it in your eyes when Judy talks about the case, you know, and you're frustrated that the rest of us don't catch up."

"Yeah… but I can't _prove_ a darn thing, and we're running out of time: Bogo wants results tomorrow or I'm out of a consultancy job. If… if I do get fired, I'll tell you what I suspect, maybe you'll get better luck."

ZG looked over him, and then nodded.

She took another Drag.

"Most mammals would be smug about that, about knowing." She said, regarding her cigarette contemplatively. "And you are a bit, but mostly… I don't know. Yes, you _do_ want everyone know know you're smarter than them, but with someone like Remes's you can see that as their only motivation for half the stuff they do and I don't get that from you more…. Isolation. Not loneliness exactly but… apart ness. You want mammals to get you. Need them to get you." Her eyes flicked briefly to Judy, at the bar, ordering ice-cream. "Some more than most." Added the skunk.

Nick held her gaze for a long time, and then half smiled with narrowed eyes and turned down ears and a dismissive, sardonic snort.

"You know you shouldn't smoke, you know. It's bad for your health." He said, as sarcastically as possible, making it clear as he could that he didn't want people visiting his motives for why he did this or why he felt the need to be around Judy and what her to be interested in him. _I get enough of that from my shrink._ He thought, and ZG held the gaze for a long moment, and then laughed, it disintegrating into a slightly husky cough after a moment.

"You don't say _Pendejo?_ And there was me thinking that they put the photos of diseased lung tissue on the packets just for the one guy out there who inevitably has that as their particular fetish." She said, grinding it out. "But it's okay, One, I only smoke when I'm having an astronomically crappy day… so maybe I can get this pack of twenty to last the month so long as Special Agent Johnson dies tomorrow, Two, out of all the different warnings on the boxes, I'm careful to only buy the packs with the surgeon general's warning that says it will lower my sperm count, because somehow I doubt that will affect me any, and Three, I'm a glamorous, gun toting federal agent: with a little luck I can get out from behind my desk one of these days an die in a hideous back-alley shoot our like my trainers back at the academy intended."

"Unlikely." Said Judy, re-appearing and sinking a spoon into the crisp-hot batter around the ice-cream with a satisfying _cer-crunch_ that instantly yielded into soft snowy velvetiness. "Even in the most dangerous areas of law enforcement, you're still more likely to die in an auto-wreck than be fatally shot."

"Really?" asked Nick, sounding surprised.

Judy nodded, grimly "Why do you thing the meter maid get-up is hi-vi? Other than Cops and the fire-department, who else regularly walks into high speed traffic as a normal part of their job? Statistically attending a high speed auto accident is what kills the most cops, because they're the first on the scene and have to isolate the wreck from other, fast moving, traffic, especially if it's at night. Add pulling people over where moving cars can hit pedestrians or one or both pulled-over vehicles, the odd high speed chase, and foot chases thought traffic, and add that to the fact the more civilians are killed or injured by motor vehicles from guns so even when you're not on duty you're still at risk of getting in an auto-wreck, and the math works out: guns don't kill mammals, idiots with fast cars and poor concentration levels do."

"Not that the occasional idiot with a gun won't try to shift those statistics." Said ZG, pulling out her purse, and rummaging through, revealing a slim can of mace, several spare clips for her .40, and an extendable baton before finding her wallet. "What is it about mammal nature that makes you wonder why people can't be trusted with anything more dangerous than a sharp stick?" she said, causally sweeping the weapons back into the bag.

"I dunno, having recently seen a savage jaguar up close and personal, I can attest that getting even the _briefest_ glimpse of what mammals were like before the creature comforts of civilisation is enough to make you miss the gang-bangers and crazy motorists who treat the crosswalk like a bowling alley." Said Nick, pulling out his own wallet. "Give me the cold dispassionate death on the roadside over the guy actively trying pull me limb from limb and _eat_ me any day." He said, earning a disapproving look from Judy and another amused snort and an "Amen to that" from ZG.

"No." he said, spotting Judy reaching for her wallet on her utility belt. "Hey, the way this case is going, this may be my one and only change to buy you a meal as a police consultant, let alone buy a meal for a federal agent, let me have this Carrots." He said, only half-jokingly as he checked he had enough to cover the bill, and left the table before Judy could object and walked over to the bar to pay: the café was small, and only had the one register. Pushing open the door from the veranda to the small interior of the café, he nodded to the small group of elderly water buffalo in the corner who seemed to be the only customers inside, and walked over to the young fox working behind the bar and also ruining the take-away side of the business on a Blue-Fang headset clipped to the side of his glasses. A young female Dhole in a punk-rocker get up and motorcycle leathers with _Tank Girl_ patches took a bag of food and a ticket from him.

"Delivery for Mister Tenturun, 117 Binturong towers, and he's a good tipper _Chó._ " Said the barman, handing over the delivery to the rider, who nodded once, pulled on a _Sex Bob-omb_ motorcycle helmet, and walked out of the door.

"Hi, I'd like to settle up? Table four." Said Nick, approaching. The barman nodded, and Nick leant on the bar, resting for a moment and looking back over out the windows to Judy and ZG. He'd half expected them to be talking about the case, but judging by the smiles and Judy's occasional laughter they were just chatting. The falling rain on the edge of the veranda glittered in the streetlight behind them, creating a shimmering, curtain-like backdrop to them, and while ZG was by far the more conventionally beautiful of the two of them, and far closer to his own size, shape and species, he was surprised how consistently his eye was drawn back to Judy's smile. She saw him looking, mid-way thought laughing at some cop-joke that ZG had made, caught his eye, and gave a happy little bunny wave to him, and he grinned and waved back like a complete dork and suddenly realised he had gone a little week at the knees, something that had never happened to him in his life up until that point and before that moment he had always considered to be nothing more than a terrible fiction trope that he was sure didn't happen outside of Disney movies or bad shipping fanfic.

 _Then again after all the walking about and contorting into Blinky that I've done for this case, it might just be the last of my cartilage giving way._ He thought, grinning back like a doofus and glad that he was leaning on the bar for support. It was actually quite a beautiful moment.

 **Music plays: Brian Adams;** _(Everything I Do) I Do It For You._

"Sir?" said a slightly smug vulpine voice, and Nick snapped out of the moment so quick he startled.

"Sorry? What?" he said, suddenly turning his head and trying not to panic as the barman materialised behind him, the TV behind the bar playing _Robin Hood and the Prince of Thieves_ with Vietnamese subtitles, a film Nick had always quite liked, if only for having a fox villain that was more fun than the actual hero. _Although no one beats the Disney Robin Hood._ He thought.

"Your change." Said the barman handing back a couple of notes and some coins, calmly and coolly, glancing once from Nick to ZG and Judy and smiling knowingly.

"Huh? Oh… thank you… here." He said, quickly calculating a decant tip and handing it over, still surprised at his own depth of feeling over Judy. "Great food, as always." He muttered: he didn't know the barman's name, it wasn't the sort of place you asked, but he did tend to stop by here whenever he happened to be in the rainforest district so he guessed he must see the guy about every month or so, dependant on what con's he was currently running: if nothing else, the heat and humidity meant that pawsicles always sold well in the Rainforest district.

"Thank you." Said the barman, calmly polishing and tidying up some cups, "You know, if you need a table for two next time, just ask."

"Huh? What?" asked Nick, suddenly defensive.

The barman raised his paws. "My bad, sir. Don't mean to pry. Different strokes for different folks… it just looked for a moment that you'd maybe prefer stroking something other than a vixen." He said, smiling slightly.

"Oh _god._ Was…." Nick caught himself before he asked _was it that obvious._ "Was…. Look, never mind." He said. The barman looked at Nick. Nick looked at the barman.

"Was I really that obvious?" said Nick, calmly, eyes narrowed and ears flat, when it became clear that he wasn't fooling anyone. _God, I hate how well other foxes can get a read on me._

The barman shrugged. "Hey, who could blame you? Beautiful night, nice meal, shimmering curtain of rain, and frankly, power-dressing skunk? She's quite a catch, and it's cute that she brought that rabbit as her wingman. Hey, if that rabbit found someone you could double date!"

Nick leaned on the counter, elbow cocked, one ear up and one ear down, eyes narrowed and eyebrow raised. "U-huh? Okay, friendly word, Fox to fox? I think you _might_ be barking up the wrong tree there, pal." He said.

The barman looked momentarily surprised, and then slowly broke into a scandalised gossipy grin.

" _Really?"_

"Well, maybe at some point in the future, who knows? This is Zootopia, and anyone can be anything."

"Yeah I know but… the skunk and the rabbit? _Really?_ Wow, talk about Blind love!" He said, sounding suitably thrilled by suck a shocking same-sex cross-species parring.

Nick watched him for a long moment with the same disbelieving eyebrow raised.

"Well." He said, after some time. "I can see that you're _very_ perceptive mammal, but in the interest of…" Nick latticed his fingers and looked at the ceiling for a moment. "Of, yanno, letting them do their thing, being respectful for their privacy, just…just keep that under your hat, okay?" asked Nick.

The barman nodded, and made a mouth-zipping gesture of keeping silent, and Nick tipped him an extra five, and managed to get all the way out of the café before he burst out laughing. That was, possibly, the funniest thing he'd heard in years.

 _And the jokes on you: if mammals are that scandalised by Sunk-rabbit, how, exactly, do you think they'll respond to Fox Bunny? How do you think_ _ **Judy**_ _will respond?_

 _Oh god, I'm doomed._ He thought, unsure if to laugh or cry.

"What was that about?" asked ZG, grinding out her cigarette as Nick got back to the table.

"Ehah, nothing, just, just… Prince of Thieves was on, forgot how funny that film is."

"Meh: Disney version was better." Said ZG.

"Humph, well I don't suppose the Prince of Thieves gave you any hint as to who stole away our two missing mammals?" asked Judy, checking her watch and standing up. "Because otherwise, we better call this a day."

Nick scratched the scruff of his neck, awkwardly. "Not… not as such, but the day wasn't a complete wash: we got two mammals, one who can recognise Menéndez, and one who can ID Veisi's mystery friend, and we ruled out about a dozen ways that the crime _didn't_ happen. Plus your visit to ZU to talk to Remes's rivals was telling."

"How? All they said was that they were really, really supplied Remes took the job. You think they might have had a hand in the kidnaping and theft of the computer system?"

"It…. It's possible" said Nick, giving nothing away. "It is telling that Remes didn't seem to make any more progress on this than they did up until he hired Menéndez and Veisi ."

"Harrumph. Who'd have thought two missing canines could cause just a headache… we tried everything to find them, and still got nowhere. I don't suppose there's anything we missed, Nick?" asked Judy.

Nick Shrugged. "Speaking as a canine, I think we did everything save randomly howling at the moon, and I don't really have the vocal range for that." he joked. "Hell, we're so desperate it might almost be worth me checking out the local lampposts."

Judy and ZG stared, with horrified expressions of disgust. Nick looked back confused for a moment before he realised.

"In case someone has put up a missing mammals poster! Jesus, what did you _think_ I meant? Ewww!"

"You could have phrased that better. So what Now?" said ZG, picking up her umbrella and shaking of a few loose droplets.

Nick and Judy looked to each other.

"Well, we've burnt thought almost 48 hours of the 72 that Bogo and Homeland gave us, and I for one need _some_ sleep, super conejita or not." said Judy

"It's cone _Hi_ ta." Corrected Nick, without even realising. "Well, we'll just have to meet up early tomorrow and try and find some evidence… somewhere. If not…" he glanced to ZG.

"Special Agent, can you arrange us another meeting? Johnson and Johnson, Us three and Remes, at the lab, tomorrow afternoon?"

"Sure, why _zorro?_ "

"Because by then I'll have either solved it, or gotten my brush-tail fired, so either way I'll want to tell everyone about it in a needlessly dramatic manner."

ZG snorted. "You really think I'm about to waste Johnson and Johnson's time and annoy everyone like that in the event that you _haven't_ solved it?"

Nick and Judy stood there stating at her for a moment, as she popped up her umbrella.

"Is three o-clock good?" she asked, smiling faintly. "That'll _really_ mess up Johnson's afternoon. He'll miss Pilates and have to cut short his afternoon coffee break and everything: after ten years in the TSA, it'll be good to see him forced to chug _his_ drink for once. " said ZG.

"Huh." Said Nick. "You have an extraordinarily nasty mind, you know." Said Nick, conversationally.

"It makes up for my mighty fine body." She conceded, walking to her car. "Three o'clock, Lucian Industries Flatiron. Oh, and joking aside, please actually have something for us: it'd be a real shame for Judy to have to arrest you for wasting police time. _Ciao._ "

Nick and Judy waved, and with a brief spin of tires and cussing from other road users, Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez sped off into the night.

"You… you can't actually arrest me for wasting police time, can you?" Asked Nick, still waving.

"Any time I damn well please." Said Judy cheerfully waving along, before turning to Nick when ZG's car finally disappeared.

"So, meet up tomorrow morning and look for physical evidence: I guess we could try Menéndez's apartment again. Say oh six hundred?" asked Judy.

"Is that the same as six?"

"Yes Nick."

"In the _morning_?" asked Nick horrified. "They have a six in the morning now? Since when?"

"Since you decided you wanted an honest job."

"Gods, going to regret _that_ decision daily." Said Nick, walking Judy to, what for the want of a better word he'd have to call her car, sheltering under the eaves of the café's veranda as she got her keys out, and vaulted into Blinky as fast as she could, to avoid the worst of the rain.

"Everyone does, you get used to it… well, no, that's a lie, you stop hating yourself for it so much after a year or so. Hey you need a ride home?" she asked, slightly awkwardly, key's halfway to the ignition.

"Me? No, no I'm fine." Said Nick, shrugging and leaning back on the pillar that supported the roof of the veranda with an effortless ease Judy wished she could bottle, ears cocked and eyes half closed. "Hop along, Carrots, I'll be fine. See you tomorrow."

Judy looked out at the rain, and then back to Nick: the trouble with Rainforest was that you could never tell what the actual weather in the rest of the city was like past the Biome's artificial rain.

"You… Nick, level with me, you _do_ actually have somewhere to go, right? Somewhere safe and out of the rain?"

Nick let out a short, sharp bark of laughter.

"Believe it or not, Carrots, but in the process of earing over a million dollars pre-tax, I did manage to find an apartment. Contrary to appearances, I don't actually live under that bridge: I just hang out there because I didn't like meeting Finn and some of the other less than reputable types I used to work with near my actual apartment. Finn's okay, but as a general rule I don't like a bunch of low-lives knowing where I live."

"U-huh? And I'm guessing you're keen to keep that place off the radar with cops, too?" she said, half joking but slightly put out none-the less: it wasn't like she thought that she particularly wanted or needed to see where Nick lived, she respected his privacy, but for some reason she couldn't place the idea of him shutting her out from a part of his life upset her a little, and she couldn't say why.

Part of that must have shown on her face, because after a split second of looking panicked, his expression softened and he said.

"Cops are fine. Of course, the building's quite old and the stairs are a mess, so I'd imagine Bogo would get stuck, but I think a Bunny cop might manage. I…. I'm not trying to shut you out of my life, Judy, it's just, I'm…" _desperately in Love with you and don't know how to say it?_ The words died in his hind brain, they didn't even make it as far as his mouth before some internal sensor took then out back and shot them. _Hey baby, we're different species and I'm madly in love with you, so why not come back to my apartment? Yeah, really classy Nick. Heck, how can I end this sentence without sounding like a complete creeper?_

"It's okay Nick, I understand." Said Judy, looking sad.

"You do?" said Nick, open mouthed with shock. Judy nodded.

"Yeah, I do: after what I said at that stupid press conference, I'd have trouble trusting me too. It's okay if you need some space: if you want to only be friends when we're at work, that's fine by me too. I…. I'll see you tomorrow, Nick, keep safe, okay?" Said Judy, putting Blinky into drive, and quietly pulling out into the night, ricochets from the rain misting the wind-shield like tears.

Nick stood there for a long time, staring blankly into space and just listening to the rain, before sagging his shoulders.

"Oh god….. I'm an idiot."

* * *

Judy got back to her apartment wringing wet and dripping onto the welcome mat in the half-light of the hallway, her two crazy neighbours already mid-way thought a louder than normal muffled rant and the sounds of a tv and the squeaking of bedsprings noticeable from the room to the other side of her as she unlocked her door. Watching her shadow stretch out across the bare floor she stood in the doorway for a moment, tired and strangely emotionaly drained after her day.

If she thought about it, she guessed that not making any progress on the case must be why she felt so bad… _must_ be. She couldn't see any other reason why she felt this way.

But…

 _Nick smiling and laughing_ _at the start of the day. Nick weirdly subdued, almost despondent at the end, Embleer Frith, Judy, what did you do or say to him to make him act so weird?!_

Fear. The fear that she was once again failing him as a friend somehow. But what was it? How was she supposed to know what to do about the weird way he was acting if he wouldn't up and tell her how he was feeling?

 _Then again the last time he opened himself up to you, you went on live syndicated television and said that Predators were reverting to their primitive, savage ways_ _ **literally seconds**_ _after he let himself be vulnerable by filling out a ZPD application. If I were him I wouldn't blame him for keeping some stuff inside._

 _If you were him_ whispered a dark little voice in the back of her mind, _If you were him, you'd not have let Judy Hopps back into your life under that bridge. You didn't get through the police academy when no bunny ever had by having a forgiving streak. Which one of the two of you is_ _ **really**_ _the predator when you get down to it?_

Judy took a deep breath, and then switched on her light switch and, ignoring the noise from her neighbours, walked in, booted the door shut behind her, and started taking off her wet overclothes, humming happily under her breath: the nastier side of her mind _had_ been of use in giving her the drive to get thought the academy and drown out the dismissive voices, hell, if you didn't have _some_ grit in your soul Furschia would bend you into a pretzel and floss the gunk out from between her toes with you , but she'd long since put that side of her in its place. From the day she'd kicked Gideon to win back her friend's tickets, she'd known how to use it when she needed, and shut it the hell up the rest of the time.

Nick _was_ her friend. She _was_ a cop, and a _real_ cop, and a _good_ cop. This _was_ her crappy apartment, but she was still happy to live and work in the city of her dreams, and tomorrow, she was going to go out there again, and mend whatever bridges needed mending with Nick, and be a good friend to him, and crack this case. And if she didn't manage that tomorrow, there was always the day after that, and the one after that, and after that: you didn't get a free pass to stop being a good guy just because it was sometimes hard, she thought, stripping down to her underwear and draping a baggy and faded t-shirt with a goofy looking picture of a cartoon duckling on it over her head because she'd had it for years and it was by far the most comforting thing she owned. Tomorrow, she was going to make it work.

 _In Zootopia anybody can be anything: this bunny, she's chosen to be Judy Hopps. So watch out._ She thought towelling her ears dry and checking she had a clean uniform for tomorrow before Hopping into her comically oversized bed. The light streaming in through the window was too bright, she needed to buy some blackout blinds, and the traffic noise was way too loud compared to Bunnyburrows, and the neighbours were annoying as hell, but as Judy Hopps checked her alarm, killed the lights and closed her eyes, it was in the knowledge that tomorrow was another day, and while it _might_ me worse, it still wasn't going to beat her.

 _Besides, I'll have Nick there with me, and he's the most laid back and confident mammal I've ever met. What could go wrong?_

* * *

Judy stood, trying not to make eye contact with anyone as she tapped a paw nervously and checked her watch for the ninth time in an hour, feeling increasingly angry, nervous and put out as the little glow-in-the-dark carrot-shaped hands chased each other around the watch face. They'd all gathered in the robbed out lab, ZG and Remes, Johnson and Johnson, Bogo and Clawhauser were there too… she was there… everyone was there but Nick.

Someone coughed, awkwardly, and they all looked at their feet.

"That's it: I'm leaving." Said Remes. "The fox is a no-show, this is a waste of time."

"Just, just give him a few more moments, and I'm sure he'll be here!" Pleaded Judy, and the wolf snorted, and walked for the door.

"No, I for one agree with Mister Remes." Said Johnson A. "He was meant to meet us at three, and it's coming on for five past five. We've been here for over an hour: he's not coming, he hasn't cracked the case, and he doesn't care. This, this is a colossal waste of everyone's time!" Yelled the Clouded leopard.

Judy glanced to ZG, who scowled back. "As much as I hate to agree, Special Agent Johnson has a point. He's not coming. Sorry to be the one to tell you, _Conejita_ but the fox is jerking you around. If he cared about the case, he'd be here. If he cared about your career, he'd be here. If he cared about _you_ , Judy, he'd be here, and he'd have solved this case like he promised." ZG held up both paw, and gestured to the mammals gattered around in the room. "So where is he?"

Judy scanned the room, and other than ZG who just looked sad for her, everyone was angry at her for dragging them there. Even Clawhauser wouldn't meet her eye.

"Chief Bogo, you know Nick, surely you-"

"No, Officer Hopps, you _do not_ get to drag me here and embarrass me in front of the feds like this and then _chief Bogo_ me like that! Just who do you think you are, officer? Maybe it was Wilde holding you back on this, or maybe I just put too much responsibility on you too fast, but it's clear to me that this is _exactly_ the sort of thing that happens when an officer is in over their head. I hoped for better from you, Hopps, I really did. I won't make that mistake again." he said, tossing over the scrap of orange cloth. Judy caught it, numb, and turned it over in her paws. It was a high-visibility tabard. On it were written just two words. _Meter Maid._

The mammals filtered out of the room past her, one at a time, not looking, as she stood there numb for the longest time.

After an age, Nick burst thought the door, panting.

"Oh god, oh god I'm sorry I'm late… I got pulled over for being a fox and it took forever before they let me past, and then I was trying to drive up the road and there was an _entire_ toupee of Junior Ranger Scouts blocking my way and… Judy?" he said, suddenly aware of the sound of quiet, rabbity sniffles. "…Carrots?"

"Don't Carrots me, Nick." Said Judy in a small voice, huddled in the corner of the ruined lab, clutching at the Meter-maids tabard as the temperature in the room fell and it grew dark.

"I… I needed you, Nick. I needed you here for me, Nick, and you weren't there, you didn't show. You _didn't put the hard work in_ Nick, and you _weren't there_. I…. I felt so betrayed…."

Nick froze up, moved a half pace toward her, but she shrunk back and turned her face away from him, leaving him paused awkwardly with one paw out, ears flat, eyes wide and mouth part open in stunned horror.

"Judy, I tired, I tired…. Ranger scouts… I got pulled over…."

"You didn't even have a car, Nick. Don't lie to me. I… I knew I shouldn't have trusted a fox."

"It's not your fault _, Conejita_." Said a voice. Nick spun around. ZG was leaning in the corner of the room, barely visible in the glow of her own cigarette. "He's good at playing the concerned, honest soul: he wouldn't be a very good con artist if he wasn't. He fooled us all into thinking he could be there for you. Perhaps he even fooled himself." She said, sadly.

"Any luck cracking the case, Wilde?" rumbled a deep voice, Nick turned again, and Bogo was there behind him, He tried to speak, but no words came. Bogo snorted, once, and tore up his consultants badge, crumbling it like burnt paper. "Thought not." he muttered, glaring

"Did… did you at least find the stolen hard drive?" asked Clawhauser, kneeling by Judy to comfort her as she cried into her meter maid's uniform .

"Find Menéndez?" asked Johnson A, aggressively circling him.

"Or Veisi?" asked Johnson B, passing in front of him in the other direction.

"And if you failed at all that, did you at least find _some_ physical evidence to back up your theory as to who did this?" asked Remes, glancing up over his Game of Gokemon Pro, blue and flickering in the pale light of his phone. "Anything?"

"I…. I…. I tried." He said, mouth dry, "Judy, I tried."

"Well, you didn't try hard enough Nick!" she yelled, turning away from him.

"I've seen enough." Muttered Bogo. "Clawhauser, book him for wasting police time and being a stupid, lazy, cowardly, waste-of-fur fox. You're going down, Wilde, for real this time."

"No." yelled Nick, as Clawhauser got the cuffs out, "No, Judy, tell them I tried, Tell them I tried Judy, I tried to be a good Cop, I tried to be a good mammal, I tried to be a good _friend_ Judy, tell them that, tell them, Judy, tell them!" he yelled, as Clawhauser grabbed him by one paw and he reached out to her with the other, but she still didn't look at him, she still kept her face turned away, and while tears rolled down her cheek, she kept her expression calm, almost stony. This was just another bust to her, Nick realised with a horror: Just one more good-for-nothing con artist meeting his fate.

"But why, Nick. Why did you try, when failure could hurt both of us this much? Why would you risk this?" she asked, crying. "Why?"

 _Because I love you!_ He wanted to yell. _Because I love you, Judy Hopps, because I'm_ _ **In**_ _love with you! Come on Nick, just say it, just say those words! This is your last chance, just spit it out for pity's sakes!_

"Because, Judy, because I Lo- _Ummmph!_ " he screamed as Clawhauser and Bogo pulled the police issue muzzle onto him from behind, going over his snout and locking his jaw shut and choking him, he felt the panic in his chest, and he couldn't breathe, they had got the wrong size, it was too tight around his throat and he couldn't goddamn _breathe!_

 _Judy, help me! It's Killing me Judy! Judy, help, I love you. I'm dying. I love you. I'm Dying, Judy help… Judy!_ He screamed silently, holding out his paw to her, begging, pleading for the help, her attention, her love, but she turned away, and it was chocking him.

"Okay." Rumbled Bogo's voice, distant and booming as the darkness closed in and he felt his life slip away. "Get this one cuffed, tagged and bagged and in lock up where he belongs and then throw away the key, got it Spots?"

"Sure thing chief Bogo…. But Chief…." said Clawhauser, and Nick gagged and then vomited under the muzzle and stated to choke on that too, clawing at this throat and dying by inches, "I get why Nick's late…but why isn't he wearing any pants?" said Clawhauser, and Nick dropped to the floor of the lab, dead.

 ** _Thunk!_**

Nicholas Wilde hit the floor of his apartment, tangled in his bedsheets and woke up, screaming.

He lay there for a long time staring up at the roof, the shot of him interrupted by the flickering of the ceiling fan casting noir streaks over the blue-green scene as Nick lay there, to one side of his couch, dressed only in a set of dark green boxers as he panted and hyperventilated, eyes wide as seas and glinting in the dark, and stared dead ahead, checking his mouth and nose for any sign of a muzzle with both paws, before rubbing at the downy fur of his throat nervously for a long moment.

"Not wearing any pants?" he said, with disgusted disbelief after the longest time. "Jesus Nick, watch fewer cartoons, even your anxiety dreams have become clichéd. What is this, middle school?" he muttered, rubbing at his lower back were he'd hit the floorboards, and levering himself back up on the edge of the couch. The room was lit in blue and pink neon's from the city outside with window, and it turned all the greens to smokey blues, from Nick's eyes, to his shorts, to the faded Hawaiian foliage pattern wallpaper of the apartment: an uncanny match for the shirt hanging off the electric press in the corner of the room.

Walking across the small kitchen/diner/lounge to the sink, his fur briefly gaining colour as he passed by the room's one window, Nick nervously pored himself a glass of water, and then picked up his phone off the bleached and chipped linoleum of the counter-top to check the time, rubbing at this throat nervously as he did so.

3:35AM: the good news was that he still had over elven hours before he was actually late to that meeting. The bad news, was that he had just eleven hours to crack the case.

Groaning, he drunk half his water, briefly considered if he needed to pee or not and then carefully staggered back around to bed, negotiating the room with the thoughtless ease of someone who has lived there for decades. He paused at the window, and snorted. No wonder he'd had a bad dream: the window had blown shut, and the room was almost silent.

Grabbing the sash window and shoving it open boldly, Nick let in the night, leaned forwards, and breathed deep. Traffic fumes, street food, the Chinese takeout downstairs, the nostril-burning artificial floral scents from the coin laundry across the way and a dozen less savoury smells, the instant hit of hot, clammy air washing over his fur because the wind was blowing from Rainforest tonight, and the rumble from the bay that let him know that soon the big air-conditioners in Tundra Town would vent and hit the triangle with a burst of welcome cool air, and in the process condense the soup they'd been breathing all week into rain and sweet petrichor. And, eyes closed and whiskers twitching, the noise: Distant music, crazy neighbours cursing, drunks singing, police helicopters in the middle-distance and the familiar, soothing sound of sirens in the night; a top note to the gentle susurrus of traffic that made up the white-noise breathing of the city. He would make all the jokes you liked about city boys and how crummy this pace was once you scratched the surface, but still, he just didn't understand how anyone could ever sleep without that noise. It was part of him, his lullaby, and ten million other souls' lullaby too.

Finishing his water, he put the glass back, made sure his phone was plugged into its charger, and picked up his sheets and snuggled down again on his sofa bed. Briefly, for just a second, his eyes flicked to the two closed doors, across the hallway from the kitchenette, past the mirror and the stand in the hall, but before the bathroom.

One of the two bedrooms still had a sign on the door, carved from a single bit of wood, bark still on and painstakingly paw-engraved with the Junior Ranger Scouts logo, hastily defaced with claws and a screwdriver more than two decades before.

 _Nick's room._

Nicholas Wilde shivered in the humid air, grabbed his sheets, and rolled over, hugging them close. He liked the sofa just fine, thank you.

* * *

Judy sat in her cubicle at ZPD HQ running thought the CCTV from the pollution monitoring stations again, and subconsciously checked her phone again.

09:02 AM

Hesitating to herself for a moment, biting her lip and nose twitching, she unlocked the phone and checked her messages.

 _ **05:48**_

 _ **Hey Carrots… got something I really need to check out. Can you get our two witnesses, Ğalfer Jandek and Asase Nansi in for a photo identity Parade? I've arranged the Photos with Clawhauser allready, so he's got that sorted.**_

 _ **05:49**_

 _ **And no peeking at the photos, you sly Bunny, I still can't afford to contaminate your thought process or you'll try to bend facts to fit the case. Nick**_

 **05:51**

 **Sure thing, but where are you at? We were supposed to meet up. Judy.**

 **07:44**

 **Okay, got one of them in with Clawhauser, one with Francine, and each with a lawyer to keep it by the book. Photo ID parade underway.**

 **08:22**

 **What the Frith? Nick, they both made a positive ID. What's going on here? Talk to me? Where are you? *angry Emoji***

 **08:22**

 **Lazy Fox, if you don't answer me by nine, I swear I'm coming to find you. I will Hunt you down like a drunken British aristocrat. See if I don't.**

 **08:40**

 **Nick, talk to me, what's going on, are you okay?**

 **08:40**

 **I'm getting kind of worried for you here. *Concerned Emoji***

 **08:41**

 **You idiot.**

Judy looked at the time again, just as it flicked over to 09:03.

Grabbing her Keys and logging off her computer, she headed out and down the stairs to the main atrium of the ZPD and hustled across the lobby towards the elevator that lead to the underground parking complex, taking only a moment to pass by the front desk.

"Sergeant Furschia, where's Clawhauser?" she asked in passing, as she realised the the big polar bear was leaning back in Clawhauser's chair and spinning it around lazily while compressing an hand exerciser and whistling tunelessly to herself, some 90's dance track she vaguely recognised but couldn't quite place.

 **Moby** \- _Bodyrock (Fire Version)_

"Where do you think, Fluffbutt?" she asked, not even looking away from the ceiling, but pointing with a thumb. Judy looked over, to see him at the doorway signing for that day's delivery of free charity donuts, literally two dozen boxes stacked on a stairclimbing hand-truck. While he was doing this, the perps he was meant to be booking in were starting to pile up, and a large Rhino came up, dragging a handcuffed and muzzled hippo behind him: he had Cleary had enough, and pushed thought to the front of the line.

"I need to book this perp in."

"Hey, I'm retired, I don't even technically work here anymore, I'm just killing the days until the academy re-opens, sweetness."

The Rhino glared at Furschia, appalled. "This Hippo is wanted for six armed robberies, robbing fast food joints. I had to fight him and his three buddies for two hours and chase him over rooftops to bring him in!"

"So what, Carl, that's your job. You want a damn cookie? Pat on the back? I think I have some gold-star stickers _here_ somewhere." Muttered the polar bear grumpily before grabbing at the crotch of her sweatpants _Thriller_ style.

"I want to talk to my lawyer." Muttered the hippo.

"Existence is pain, we seldom get what we want." Said Furschia philosophically, scratching under her baseball cap and then examining her claws. "For example, I've only know you for six seconds and already I want to slap the stupid little Shrek ears off you, but if I do I'll get arrested. Such is life."

"Hey, when Clawhauser gets back, can you tell him I'm off looking for Nick?" said Judy, Hurrying away "and if all else fails, that I'll be at the Lucian industries Flatiron at oh fifteen hundred!"

"Sure, because I'm just everyone's secretary now!" yelled Furschia, at Judy's retreating back, before swivelling the chair back to the Rhino and hippo. "Oh god, you two are _still_ here? Fine, I'll start the paperwork, but Spots needs to sign it for it to be legal. Why rob Fast food joints?" she asked, reluctantly getting out a pen and charge sheet.

"I got hungry."

* * *

Nick Paced awkwardly, waiting in line at the L-train station as he waited for his train and called his shrink again.

"Hi Carrol, me again, look I know the doc is busy and you're probably overworked which is why you've let my last three calls go to voice mail, but I'm bugging out here, I'm like really, really stressed, I haven't slept well, I had a horrifying anxiety dream that I'm _really_ hoping wasn't prophetic, and I'm ignoring the cop assigned to work with me because I've got.." he checked his wrist.

"I… I'm going to guess under four hours to crack a major police case, because I just remembered I don't wear a wrist watch and I can't see the time on my phone mid-call, and I feel about ten seconds away from a full blow anxiety attack, so if you could get the doc to call me back before I go full on _One Flew over the Cuckoo's Nest_ , that'd be swell. Thanks."

He said, as the train pulled up and he shuffled on with the other commuters. Because it was getting on for eleven, all the office workers and schoolkids were come and past, and the only people on public transport at that point were the tourists, elderly, and inevitable weirdos who of course wanted to stand right by him. The first stop was a museum, and a full school trip of young mammas from Podunk or someplace in the sticks had taken all the setting, meaning that while a dozen little Bambi's Ohhed and Ahhed at the sight of perfectly ordinary high-rise buildings, Nick was stuck standing between a Warthog with paint-blisteringly bad BO and an armpit _exactly_ at Nick's head height, and a male Meerkat who seemed to be having some sort of low-key lovers spat with the Warthog, and after ten minutes of being physically sandwiched between them while they bickered he was seriously starting to regret not destroying more of the rail network when he had the chance.

As they pulled up at the Science Museum and the school group filled out, Nick pounced on his chance and slinked out from between his two captors, and practically dived for a seat before someone else could get one. As he did so, a Pocket Gopher who's had the same idea sat down next to him , and then immediately froze up, glancing nervously from Nick to the standing room he'd just vacated every few seconds.

Nick frowned, ears cocked back, but didn't say anything because he didn't want to start anything when he was already in a bad enough mood, so he just pulled out his phone and tried booted up Gokemon pro to distract himself from the fact he could hear the gopher's slightly panicked breathing, and could smell fox repellent in the back pocket of the guy's pants. The guy stat there for a full thirty seconds, hand hovering over the pocket with the repellent, not looking at Nick but so clearly focusing on him it was all Nick could do not to yell "Boo!", before the guy bugged out and, once the train doors closed and he realised he couldn't get away from Nick, he got up, left the swat, and went and stood next to the Warthog instead.

"Seriously?" asked Nick, more appalled than angry. The guy met his eyes briefly, panicked, and then pretended to develop a serious interest in the FOREX exchange rates being advertised on one of the posters on the train, right between "Mange: is it time YOU got tested?" and an advert for Peyda.

Nick realised that his _"Seriously"_ and the fact he'd made eye-contact was a big enough breach of commuter etiquette that even other preds were now glancing at him as if wondering when exactly he'd fly of the handle, and Nick got self-conscious and looked down at his phone. _There is, by a law of nature, exactly one crazy person on any given form of public transport,_ he thought _and much like the one sucker in every poker game, if you can't spot them, then that means it's_ _ **you.**_ he realized, tugging at his collar a mite nervously and loosening his tie a fraction, as for some reason his dream kept coming back to him. God it was hot in this train cart. How did people breathe in here?

Practically spilling out of the car at his stop, he shoved past the warthog using a combination of elbows, turning sideways and being too short for the guy to see, and, gasping in the fresher air, practically sprinted for the exists before reminding himself how pred fleeing in public might look to the cops and that Transit was already looking for an excuse to shoot him, and forced himself to walk calmly and slowly to the ticket barriers, past the currently useless _SaftyNet_ box mounted at the station exit, and the two bored and hostile transit cops, before climbing down the stairs to street level and legging it towards the Shrink's office.

* * *

Carrol paced around her chair in the shrinks office, wolves generally hated sitting still, blue and black striped suit blouse ruffling in the breeze from her deck fan, and going down a clipboard as she chatted away on a Blue-fang headset.

"Amelia, wait, hold on a second…" she switched to the other line. "Pacific trident mental-health? Janice? … Yeah, no, where the Cuss is it? I ordered it three days ago!" *Rustling paper.* "No, that doesn't work! That's, that's not right! Let me go over it again, all right? Let's see: Three thousand ampules of Sucostrin, injectable, 500 Milligrams! You had that! I gave that to you on the cussing list! … Yeah Sucostrin, not Durazac 15..."

"Well I don't give a **_goddamn_** where it is! You get it here! Now!"

 ***Beeping as Carrol changes back to line one.***

"Amelia? Yeah I'm sorry, yeah, no… yeah no, I'm… it's not going to be a boring soup! It… It's just the _base_! You put the chicken in, you gotta add other flavours! Carrots and celery are just a _base_ of a soup! Hey!" she yelled, as Nick burst thought the outer door, and stormed past.

"Hey, Nick, the doc's in with another patient, you can't just-"

"Trust me, Carrol, This is an emergency!"

"You can't just barge-" she managed, as Nick barged in.

"Harrumph. Rude. No soup for him." he said, lowering her clipboard and looking offended.

* * *

The psychiatrist tapped his claws on his notepad and doodled in the margins with his dead pen: scraping deep into the paper to leave an incised mark even with the ballpoint out of ink. His current doodle: a cartoon version of himself, hanged from his own ceiling fan holding a sign saying _Goodbye idiots_ while a bad cartoon of Carrol attacked his patients with an axe for boring him to death.

The patients depicted were a pair of middle aged rabbits.

"- I mean, yes I _understand_ it's normal for a female rabbit to have an active sex drive, but I'm only mortal, Doc, and frankly when she's like this, you can see why I just can't talk to her I mean…. Doc, you paying attention? Am I boring you?" asked an aging male rabbit with an uncanny resplendence to the sketch.

"Of course not Mister Whitespot, I was just making notes: you feel that your wife's demands for sexual attention have become unreasonable and you've become paranoid that she might have started, and I quote here "Shopping around the Block" to find others to meet her physical needs, a term that I believe Judith found upsetting.

"It's the implication of infidelity." Said Mrs Whitespot. "The idea that if I'm not satisfied with him in the bedroom I'm instantly going to start an affair with the neighbours, an idea that, frankly Carl, has deeply sexist overtones."

"Well I know what you're like, Judith, and I remember you use to get around a lot before we married an yes, I know that's a double standard, I'm not saying that I didn't, but seeing as we've gone over how I… how I haven't been able to perform the way I used to since I lost the Burbeary job, and I feel that's stress related, I notice that you've been spending a suspicious amount of time out of the house."

"As if anyone would want to spend time in that _prison_ with you moping around all day and accusing them of carrying on with the neighbours!"

"Okay now!" sad the shrink, holding up webbed claws. "Now let's call a break here, and focus on some statements about how we all feel. Carl, why don't you go first?"

"I _feel_ that my wife is spreading her legs for every rabbit in our apartment block!"

The platypus psychiatrist sighed, and pinched at his beak. "Carl, that doesn't relate to your feelings and you know it-"

"And I _feel_ that if he paid any attention to my life, my husband would know that we're the only rabbits in that block!"

"Again, guys, an accusation is not actually stating a feeling that you're having…" said the shrink, hollowly, as the two just stood up on opposite ends of their couch and screamed at each other.

"Yeah? Well who's to say you're not just working your way thought the deferent Genius's? I don't even know you anymore!"

"How dare you, you think I'd do that? you really think I'd do that?"

"Well, if it meant hurting me, then yeah, I could see you … you dating a weasel of carrying on with a skunk or a… a _fox_ just to hurt me, if you thought you could!"

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you, you paranoid, _impotent_ little drama queen!" yelled Judith Whitespot into her husbands face.

"I wouldn't be surprised!" he yelled back, as the psychiatrist put his head in his webbed hands.

At which point Nick kicked open the door, surprising everyone.

"Doc! I've got an emergency! You were right, you were complete Right! I am sexually attracted to rabbits! Well, no not rabbits, but to one _specific_ rabbit! I'm Attracted to Judy!" said Nick, hopping up onto the couch and dramatically pointed to the ceiling, because he figured if you were going to burst in like that the best defence against being kicked out again was to be so dramatic everyone was too stunned to respond.

Instead, Carl Whitespot just yelled "I _goddam_ knew it!" and punched Nick in the crotch, hard.

Nick immediately crumped into a stagger, and had just enough breath to wheeze out thought the waves of racking pain. "What the…. Who the heck are you?! What … what just happened?" he wheezed, hunched over to rabbit height by pain, and Carl stormed out, followed by his wife.

"Carl _Carl!_ I swear, I've never seen this pervert before in my life! Carl, he didn't even get my name right, he said Judy! Carl… shoot. Well, nice going there asshat, you just ruined my marriage!" yelled Judith Whitespot, grabbing Nick squarely by the shoulders, and delivering a forceful and well-aimed follow up kick into his groin.

"Hey lady, I think we got off on the wrong footpaw here I was talking about a _completely_ different rabbit and- _Ooof! Lady! Dear god why!?"_ whimpered Nick, dissolving into a shivering puddle of fur as he curled up in the foetal position on the floor and made a noise that even _Ylvis_ wouldn't have seen coming as Judith got another couple of good kicks in before storming out.

After several moment of shuddering agony in which Nick made sure that his testacies hadn't actually ruptured and tried to remember how you knew if you'd broken your baculum or not, he was eventually able to grab onto the side of the couch, pull himself upright with a single pained gasp, and then immediately collapse into a ball again, as he curled up on the couch, tail tucked between legs and tears in his eyes.

"What the heck just happened to me?" asked Nick, when he was sure he could speak again without sounding like a freshly neutered choirboy.

"Some would call it just deserts: you just broke into my office in the middle of another patents bloody couples therapy ." said the shrink, glaring "Which, unless you've forgotten, is meant to be covered by confidentiality, so, Nick, please, Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have security drag you out and _fire_ you from my list of patients?"

"Uggg. First do no harm? You've still… you're still covered by a genuine concern for my wellbeing. I mean, if you kick me out, gosh, I mean, that might just push me over the edge and-"

"Are you actually threatening to self-harm to try and blackmail me into keeping you as a patent? Is that it? Is that actually how low you were about to sink?" asked the Shrink, glaring. "I mean, even my con-artist standards, were you about to try something _that_ incredibly scummy?"

"No! What? That would be despicable, completely and utterly despicable and desperate and…. Why, would that work? I mean… if I did do that, would you work weekends? Hypothetically speaking." Said Nick.

"Get out."

"Oaky! Okay, so… good reason number two: I interest you! Face it, you're bored here! I mean, you're what? Doctor House at a blood drive, Picasso painting a fence you're… I ran out of analogies, but my point is: you're wasted here, and I, I interest you!" he said, desperately pointing at himself with two paws.

"Let's face it, other than that assassin, who, by the way, I don't think exists, I think that's a joke you play of your other patients, I'm the only Interesting nutjob you have in your stable! I mean you've got, what? A few special needs kids, a box of depressives, a few alcoholics, couples needing counselling and maybe a few garden verity sexual deviants. Vs me: Con artist with tragic past trying to become a detective _and_ win the girl of his dreams who is, by the way, an _entirely_ different genius. Forget cereal mascots and panda's, that's the sort of Grade A messed up that you need to put the lead in your pencil or… I suppose, ink in your pen, have you not replaced that biro yet? Seriously?"

"It's not like I was making notes anyway." Said the platypus. "So morbid curiosity, that's your unique selling point Nick? Do you honestly think I'm _that_ bored with my job I'd let you behave like a grade A tool just because I find voyeuristically listening to your personal problems _fun?"_

Nick looked from the psychiatrist, to his paws: he'd subconsciously sat up and gone into full on ye olde snake oil salesman mode, make elaborate hand gestures as he'd spoken, and now he realised that he was just sitting there facing the shrink with two paws raised like a first year drama student milk an invisible set of giant udders.

"Is… is there any other reason anyone becomes a psychiatrist?" he asked out of the side of his mouth, grinning sheepishly.

The shrink held his gaze for a long time, and then snorted.

"Yeah: you can charge two hundred quid a sesh and bunk off early every day, and you get to be a doctor without ever having to play around with mammals' gibblets or touch sick people." Said the platypus.

"In terms of being a fake doctor, it's even better than orthodontics because you don't have to deal with bad breath or the risk of some hippo or lion chomping you by accident. I'd say the only thing that beats is is chiropractic stuff, but that's a bigger con that you are. Pseudoscientific hippy crap."

"I did once briefly try selling Homoeopathic pawsicles: one week we couldn't get jumbo pops as a first step and had to just use water; if you couldn't taste the syrup then that just meant it was working."

The shrink tried and failed to hide his smile at that, and the leaned back and started doodling again.

"What do you want, Nick?"

Nick took a deep breath. "You were right, doc. As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted by the double-blow to my gonads, I _am_ sexually attracted Judy Hopps."

The shrink looked over. "And?" he said, really obviously underwhelmed, leaning back on his chair so he was practically lying down parallel to Nick.

"And? And what? I just admitted I'm sexually attracted outside of my species, in a taboo pred-prey pairing. This is a big step for me, you should be impressed. I'm opening up!"

"Nick, you were so open about it before you could barely talk about her without drooling. You were practically pitching a tent there: I don't know, maybe this _is_ news to you, but I _already_ knew you were attracted to her before I asked you the first time because you were struggling to keep it in your fur!"

"Okay, eww, needlessly graphic Doc. But I'm opening up! That's good!"

"Really? So you've told _her_ this then?"

Nick looked down at his feet, and touched his index fingers together. "Not… not as such. Not yet."

"Oh really? Well, in that case, you haven't really opened up, have you?"

"No… guess not… it… it get's worse, Doc…"

The platypus sighed reluctantly, and then reached under his chair and pulled out a big book.

"Really? Okay, well, I've seen this in canines before: I've got a book here of erotic engravings of over two-thousand mammal species, so if you need we can go thought it and work out exactly which species you've suddenly got the hots for, and try some therapy on getting you in a heathy relationship with at least one of them: until them I've got some pills I can give you that should at least stop you humping legs until we can get this sorted out and…"

"Errr… No." said Nick, reaching out a paw and gently pushing he book down again. "I don't think I need that sort of help, thanks."

"You sure? Some of the engravings are _preeety_ racy." The shrink said, pointing at the cover with his pen.

"I'll take your word on it Doc. No, it's still Just Judy. No, _it gets worse_ as in as in, I'm not just sexually attracted to her… I'm-"

"Stealing her underwear?" asked the platypus, understandingly.

Nick glared "Can I Finish?"

"Sorry."

Nick took a deep breath.

"The four basics: tell me about X, are you sexually attracted to or intimidated by X, do you harbour feeling of guilt towards x, and considering the above, how does x make you feel about yourself? Good starting points, doc, but I think you missed an important one."

"Really? Do tell."

"Are you in love with X." said Nick. "Are you truly, madly, deeply, I will come back from the grave and play cello at you _in love_ with them. Any idiot could fantasise about spending all night in bed with someone naked, but what sort of idiot fantasizes about spending all night with them fully clothed? Not sexual attraction, full blown love."

"Ah, one of the incurable conditions. Do tell." Said the Platapus.

Nick put his head in his paws. "Oh god, I'm in love with Judy."

"Yes, I gathered."

"This is bad, isn't it?"

"By no means… it's just made it 200% more complicated that simple lust, but it's not per say bad, Nick. Believe it or not even crusty old shrinks can occasionally find love in the petrified little fossils we have instead of your weak mortal hearts."

"And if I'm in love, really, really in love, then that changes everything." Said Nick, taking his paws of his snout and staring up at the ceiling. "Because if I'm in love, then everything I do has to come back to her. You asked me, Doc, why I still kept a few con's going, you remember? And I blew you off, said I didn't know. I lied: I keep them going, because it means I don't have to risk anything: I don't have to give my all to being a cop, it's a safety net, but not a financial one, an emotional one, a sign that I don't need to grow as a person, don't need to risk anything. So long as I have the con's to fall back on, I don't need to _risk._

"But I'm in love with Judy, and Judy is a cop, to her _core._ It's in her soul. And a cop can't date a con-artist, and that's why I kept the con's going, so if I failed with Judy, failed to be there for her, failed to be good enough for her, failed to deserve her love, I had someone to blame other than myself.

"I kept the con's going as a Safety Net so I'd never have to tell Judy I love her and risk getting rejected! And that ends now!" he said, sitting bolt upright.

"I need to let go of my Safety Net, but first, I need to crack a goddam case!"

"Doc, hit me with some generic but helpful motivational words!" said Nick.

The Doc choked back on the stubby of Victoria Bitter he'd got out while Nick was monologing, because it had looked like the fox would be there for a while, and wiped at the suds on his shirt front with a tissue.

"Christ! Erm… you are the master of your own destiny?" he suggested, caught out.

"I am the master of my own destiny!" repeated Nick, glaring ahead with a keen look in his eye.

"You're a strong, independent woman slash pred slash parent and you're comfortable with who you are?"

"I am a strong, independent woman slash pred slash parent and I'm comfortable with who I am! Wait, what?"

"Dammit Jim I'm a doctor, not a slogan-a-day calendar! Okay, suck on this one and see: I am Nick, a former con artist about to go straight and from this day on, I'll never rely on a cheap con again!"

"I am Nick, a former con artist about to go straight and from this day on, I'll never rely on a cheap con again!" said Nick, triumphantly marching towards the door, ready to take on the world. "I am Nick, a former con artist about to go straight and from this day on, I'll never rely on a cheap con again!" he repeated.

"That's the spirit." Said the psychiatrist. "But, err, not to bring this up at a bad time, but this isn't your session, Nick, I'm afraid I'm going to have to charge you for the reminder of the Whitespot's hour, mister Maulwurf."

Nick flinched, and halted in his tracks at the name Maulwurf, eyes closed, shoulders hunched and muzzle wrinkled.

"Yep… of course…" he said, turning around slowly _. I am Nick, a former con artist about to go straight and from this day on, I'll never rely on a cheap con again_ he thought, checking his wallet. It was a little light.

"Saaaay." he started, grinning, then nervously scratching one ear "Ummm, little short of folding money just now, didn't really plan this ahead of time… tell you what, why don't we just put this one on my tab?"

The skink shrugged. "Sure thing, Mister Maulwurf. Same credit card as before?" Nick hesitated, but only for a moment.

"Yes." He said, raising a hand snapping his fingers and then letting his paw fall in a pointing gesture. "Yes. On my card. My card, as Mister Maulwurf. Who… who is me. Ummm… excuse me I have to…. Police." He said, turning on a heal and walking away with what store security always called _the Robot:_ that unnaturally stiff limbed gait that shoplifters and other nare-do-wells subconsciously assumed when trying not to look suspicious. He got past the bead curtain beyond Carrols desk, and then legged it.

 _I said from this day on… I never specified_ _ **right now**_ _, just, just sometime today…_ he thought, running for the stairs.

The shrink and Carrol peered thought the bead curtain after him, just heads showing like a two-tier totem pole.

"What's up with Nick?" asked Carrol, after a moment. "He seems skittish today."

"Buggered if I know luv. He's a bloody peculiar mammal that one, if you don't mind me saying." Said the platypus looking around. "On the other hand, he has scared off our most annoying therapy couple so we've got an hour free. Lunch? Bug Burger: My treat?"

"You're on."

* * *

Judy eventually found Nick in an ice-cream parlour called "Rey's" downtown, tacked onto a mid-price Italian restaurant of the edge of the touristy city centre, just before it met the area known as Triangle.

The door chimed as she entered, real bell, not a synthesiser, and Judy did a quick scan of the room for danger as all good cops did when entering and unfamiliar place, and flagged Nick, sitting alone on a small table just past the few pinball and arcade machines, and she walked over slightly cautiously: Nick had been acting really weird, and she was a little worried for him all alone there, reflected in the polished pink-orange faux-marble of the wall while the jukebox in the corner played.

 **Depressing 90's jukebox:** Jewel; _Foolish games._

"Hey Carrots." Said Nick, slightly despondently. _Okay, so less than two hours to solve the case AND tell her I'm madly in love. oh boy, what a day._ "Finnick tell you where to find me?"

"Yeah, when you weren't playing billy-goat-gruff under your bridge I used the jam-cam ALPR to find his van and asked him where else you might be if you were feeling down. How'd you know?"

Nick snorted, and held up his phone. "Finn tends not to tell people where I am without giving me a heads up: that way he can look helpful without getting me caught." He said, as Judy glanced at his phone. The message just said.

 **RUN NICK! Crazy Bunny Cop knows where you at! I told her about Reys, you got 15 before the fuzz rocks up! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!**

"Huh." Said Judy, Hopping up into the seat opposite Nick. "Why's he so convinced I'm a threat to you?"

"He just found out that you're godmother and namesake to Mr Big's granddaughter: He put two and two together and, frankly, the idea that you're moonlighting as a hit-mammal for the mob actually sounds way more plausible than just being an honest cop who has Mr Big's respect. I mean, If I didn't know better, that'd be my guess too."

"Huh. That does explain what Bogo meant when he asked me if I was in a financial arrangement with Mr Big… wait, he thought I was coming to kill you and he still told me where to find you?"

"Sure: if you _were_ working for Mr Big, I'd have hardly lied to you in his position. Ice cream?"

"Sure, I guess." She said, looking around and noting the artic fox behind the counter chopping candied fruit for gelato. "Huh, so I guess that elephant was right: they do have fox ice cream joints in your part of town."

Nick snorted. "I wish, mean old beaver has owned this place since I was a kid, Alex just works here. But they do have some of the best frozen desserts in town." Said Nick, as Alex arrived at the table with an extra-large Blueberry waffle sundae. "Try the Carrot Lemon Thyme sorbet, I'm not even a huge fan or carrots, and I'll admit that's great." Said Nick, nodding to Alex to order one.

He then looked down: Judy had reached out and a put a paw on his.

"Nick, what's going on? We were meant to meant up and work the case, and the you just disappear all day and I find you comfort eating in some gelato shop. One you admit you've been visiting since you were a kid… somewhere Finn said you go so you feel safe. Nick, whatever's going on, whatever you're feeling you can tell me, because I'm your friend and a won't judge and…. Oh Holy Frith! This sorbet is _amazing!"_ Said Judy, instantly letting go of Nicks paw to grab hold of her Sorbet class to better facilitate shovelling with her spoon. "Carrot lemon Thyme you say?"

Nick snorted, half sad half amused. "Yeah, and their Carrot Blood Orange is to die for too." He said, leaning back and massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

"I'm sorry Carrots, I know we were meant to meet early and work the case, but that… that didn't work out. I had some personal stuff I needed to get fixed, see my shrink, get myself right in the head, you know? And, frankly we've already been over every scrap of evidence that we're ever going to find… I mean, did you find anything?"

"No:" said Judy, in between bites of sorbet. " ZG chased up every lead and all the physical evidence: the only thing we found that she didn't was your two mystery witnesses…. What was with that Photo ID parade, Nick? Clawhauser said it went off without a hitch?"

Nick ignored the question. "This case is a wash, Carrots, there's no proof. And that's really, _really_ annoying, because I know what happened and who did it! Uggg, all we have is that stupid photo ID parade, and I don't know if that alone will hold up in court, and Bogo is going to fire my beautiful ass. I'm sorry Judy, I screwed up…"

"Hey, hey, you got two witnesses, one of whom could ID Menéndez, that's more than anyone else got, maybe Bogo will keep you on as a consultant…" said Judy, saying it but not feeling it. "Hey, Nick, don't be down, eat your sundae before it melts…. Hey, they serve it in a Plastic Berry picker, that's cute!" she said, before realising that Nick was a city boy, and probably just thought it was a funny shaped bowl.

"You see, Nick, you see the comb bit to-"

"Brush the bushes, and the berry's get caught in the comb and pulled off, the the leaves don't. Believe it or not, Carrots, while I might not know a thing about farming, I have actually used a berry comb before."

Judy almost snorted Sorbet out of her nose.

"Really? How? Why? When?"

Nick snorted, and played with his half eaten Sundae with a long spoon.

"You know those U-Pick places?"

"U-huh, yeah, my cousin Lola owns one."

"Basically that: summer holidays, mid 90's, school is over, and my mom doesn't want me getting under her paws or joining a street gang, which was a little overboard of her became I must have been about eight, so labour day she takes me to a U-pick. Sits with me on the bus and point out all the sites as we leave zootopia, and I've never even been out of town before, so I'm loving it. I mean, I'm a city kid, I've never even seen a fruit tree before, and, as you may have noticed, I have a marked preference for blueberries. As in: I can't watch that one scene in Willy Wonka where the bratty otter girl swells up and goes blue without thinking 'huh, time to get a smoothie'.

"So we spend a day there, me and my mom, and I'm having the time of my life. It's dumb, it's corny, there's a hedge maze moved into an actual field of maize, an _"Indoor spelunking experience"_ that's basically a big 3D maze made out of hay bales, and I'm running around it with all the other little brats out of my gourd on a non-stop fructose high. And while I'm doing this, my Mom talks to a friend of hers who works here, hippy burn out type, and at the end of the day, she asks me if I would like to stay there all summer. She asks, if I'd like a little summer job there, dollar a day sort of stuff, and she sells it to me like it's going to be like summer camp. And I'm ecstatic. I mean, hell yeah.

"So I spend the summer break picking a few punnets of early variety blueberries, strawberries in the polytunnels, sell tickets to the maize maze, live with the hippy kids for two months or so, and have the best summer of my life. I'm only annoyed by the fact that I have to leave before the apples and pumpkins are ready, because it looks like they have some really great stuff in fall, but I figure, so what, maybe I can go back for Halloween, and it's all great and I go back to mom with the sixty dollars I've made, and she says I can keep it, it's mine, I earned it, and I'm ecstatic because I've never eared my own dough before, and it's back to school, and then first day back, the _very first day_ we have show-and-tell. And the topic? What did you do on you vacations.

"And the other kids come up and talk about going to Europe, or Six Fangs, or road trips or whatever, and I'm like, dwebs, I've got this, my summer was way, way cooler than that, I _made_ money morons, and get up in front of the whole class, and I show them the sixty bucks I made, and tell them about working at the U-Pick… and they laugh, every single kid there… laughs.

"and that's not the bad bit, the bad bit is the teacher, Mrs Faline nice old deer, well, I say old, she was probably my age and I was just a stupid kid, she shushes the other kids, and stops them, and I'm confused, not upset, just confused, like, why are they pointing and laughing and saying that's not a real vacation, and she stops them and tells them off. 'class, be nice, It's not fun to laugh at mammals that are less fortunate than ourselves, after all, it's not Nick's _fault_ he's poor.'

"And it… it's just the matter-or-fact way she says it, like 'sorry kid, didn't you know? You'd have to be a moron not to notice.' I mean, yeah I knew other families did things that me and my Mom didn't and, and had fancy cars and stuff but…. It… it just never _Clicked_ until then."

"Oh Nick…" said Judy, Sorbet forgotten, reaching out a hand.

"yea, no I'm okay." He said, leaning back, little pears of proto-tears in his eyes. "Sorry, it's… you remember how I told you that I never went to SixFangs, but I went to libraries, and museums and galleries and stuff? Mom encouraged that, and you know what all those places have in common?"

"They're all educational?"

"There all free for minors." Said Nick. "and School, mom was so keen that I never miss a day of school even if I was sick. 'come on, Nicky, you're a big, strong fox, get your brush up and go to school, thing of you future, you need to be educated'… and it took me so long to work out that it wasn't just thinking about my future, it was thinking about that free lunch in the school canteen, and the breakfast tokens from the schoolboard, and how worried she was that if I didn't get it I'd not get a decent meal that day…."

Nick wiped his eyes, and then wrinkled his muzzle, disgusted with himself.

"Waterworks, _seriously?_ Ugg, sorry Carrots, I'm such a mess…"

"It's okay Nick…. Your, your mother sounds nice."

"Yeah, well she did the best she could to shield me form it as long as she could, the food stamps and loan sharks and borrowing and saving to live paw to snout. I mean, you're a kid, kids are selfish jerks, so you don't notice. When you get back from school and mom put one plate of diner in front of you, you believe her when she says she already ate hers. You don't question instructions like 'if you're hungry, just drink a glass or water to fill you up.' Oh god, I hated that teacher for a long time for busting that illusion, I can tell you. Mom tried, oh god she tried, I have no idea how I didn't get taken away by social services, but she just managed to stop that. Probably why I'm so well mentally balanced now. Ta-dah!" he said, struggling to smile at Judy.

Judy gave Nicks paw a squeeze, ears flat and eyes wide, nose twitching.

"I'm so sorry Nick, didn't your dad help?"

"Dad? No Dad was not a net contributor to the family finances, we lost him when I was two."

"Oh I'm so sorry, how did he… pass?"

"Pass? No, you misunderstand, he didn't die, we just lost him. Specifically to a vixen called Roxxy who worked as a striper up in Atlantic Falls. He still turned up now and then, for my birthdays, or when he needed money or a place to hide, or, famously, both. He once held my mom's sewing machine hostage until she loaned him some cash."

Nick noticed the wired look Judy was giving him.

"Mom was a seamstress." He said, by way of explanation. "An actual seamstress, that's not a euphemism, if she was a hooker I could have had way nicer things growing up. She adjusted and mended people's pants for money, and took in ironing, had a big old press in the corner... dad threatened to drop the sewing machine out the window unless she could front him twenty bucks. He settled at sixteen" Nick said, bitterly. "Never a good negotiator, my Pa." taking a big old scoop of ice cream and then burying his face in both paws and making a pained sobbing sound.

"Hey, hey Nick, it's okay, you just let it all out!"

"Uggg, it's not that Judy!" he said, emerging from behind his paws, tears streaming down his face and brow contorted. He pointed to his face. "I just gave myself a brain freeze! Uggg, that stings!"

Judy snorted back what may or may not have been tears, and squeezed Nick's paw again.

"Thank you, Nick, for opening up to me. I… I know this isn't easy for you. To trust others. To trust _me._ Thank you. And hey, you never know…." She said, helping herself to a scoop of Nick's ice cream and not realising that his lack or reaction to this was about a sincere a declaration or love a canine could make. "We could still crack this case, I mean, you're a genius-level street hustler and I'm a valedictorian cop and we have… nearly an hour forty minutes. " she said, optimistically. "Who knows what could happen!"

Nick snorted. "Thanks Carrots that… that makes me feel good. It really does…. I'm sorry about the waterworks I… ehehe, I actually wanted to meet you here to open up to you about _another_ thing." He said, scratching an ear nervously.

"Really? Okay, shoot." said Judy, looking bright and attentive. "I'm all ears." She joked, twitching her comically giant ears. "Whatever you have to say Nick, I'm here for you, and I want to hear, whatever it is." She said, taking his paw, he took hers back with both hands.

 _How about 'I'm insanely in love with you and want to bone you senseless?'_ thought Nick. _Partners on the case to Restraining Order in one fell swoop. And what the heck is a fell swoop anyways?_

 _Or maybe you could just not say it and have it eat away at your soul every time you're in a room with her for the next forty years? You're a fox, Nick, be bold. Man up and just spit it out. Judy, I'm in love with you. six words. That's all, six words, and at least you can say you tried. Six little words._

Nick took a deep breath, sat up straight as he could, and closed his eyes. "Judy, I'm in-"

 ** _*Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep!*_**

Judy swore, pulled both her hands away, and reached into her utility belt looking for her phone.

"Shoot, sorry, Nick, got to get this…. Where'd I put…. Ahah! Data limits? Oh heck, sorry Nick, Finnick gave me the name of this place, but not directions, well, or course he didn't he thought I was coming to kill you… had to used Zoogle maps. Must have left location data switched on on my phone, and that stuff just eats through your data allowance. Sorry." Said Judy, putting away her phone, and turning back to Nick. "Sorry, talk about your moment killers, you were saying?"

Nick sat with both paws still on the table top, and didn't seem to hear Judy as he stared off into space, ears slicked back, muzzle and brow furrowed, and eyes half narrowed, suspiciously.

 _"Location data?"_ he said, incredulously, after a long time, not even seeming to remember Judy was there. "No… no no no!" he said, cracking up into a laugh. "No, it can't be that simple… they couldn't have been that dumb…. Could they? _Could they?"_

"Could they what?" asked Judy, and Nick turned to her, eyes wide and grinning a feral grin.

Nick laughed, gabbed Judy by both paws, and danced her around the table.

"Location data! Judy, you're a genius! Call Bogo! Get him and Clawhauser down at Lucian industries, they need to see this! And call those guys at the ZU tech centre, we need to get access to one of the servers there, not one of the safety net one, but one of the public ones. Call ZG to get a subpoena or a warrant or whatever sorted, and I think we got this in the bag! We have this!" he yelled, tossing a handful of notes to the surprised artic fox behind the counter and running or the doors of the café.

"We have _what_ Nick? Nick, what is it, what were you about to tell me?"

"P-fah! Forget _that_ Judy!" yelled Nick, holding the door open and grinning, practically shuddering with excitement. "Time for that later, time all of that latter, Carrots, we Just cracked the impossible case!"

* * *

Bogo sat in his office, doing some routine paperwork as the clock in the corner of his office ticked quietly, when a knock sounded on his door.

"Enter." He said, not looking up from his paperwork. After a moment, he paused, and sighed.

"Spots, I know that's you Clawhauser, after twenty years I know you knock. Come in and spit it out whatever it is."

Clawhauser popped open the door, and waddled in, holding his phone in front of him in both paws, and Bogo took off his reading glances to look over to him.

"Chief Bogo… it's officer Hopps and Consultant Wilde, they…they say they've cracked the _SafetyNet_ case, and they request we meet them at Lucian industries in one hour and they'll explain everything!"

Bogo paused, and then rubbed at his forehead with his hand.

"Christ, I shouldn't have underestimated them… hummmm." He snorted. "Okay, fine, have a representative of the ZPD turn up, as requested. I'm not unreasonable, If the fox has cracked it, I'll honour my side of the bargain."

"Ummm, chief Bogo, he's specifically requesting you and me, that's what I meant by _we_ need to turn up. Apparently he's already told the feds to expect us!"

"Why? Asked Bogo, appalled. "Does he think this is some sort of Agatha Christie novel were he needs to assemble everyone at the scene of the crime and dramatically monologue like the end of Scooby Doo? That's not how police work _works_ : If he's cracked the case, just tell us who to arrests and… Christ, you know what, never mind, this is what we should expect letting a civilian in on the case. Fine, I'll just drop everything for my afternoon and saunter down, shall I?"  
said Bogo, in his needlessly mocking _'life isn't a cartoon musical'_ voice.

Clawhauser looked at him for a long moment.

"Okay, I'll tell them we'll be there in fifty." he said, rapidly texting.

"Clawhauser! I was being sarcastic!"

"Oh… well I just told the Bureau and Homeland you said yes."

Bogo face-palmed. "Fine! I'll go? Bring the car in forty. Happy now? I note you're still here and… and why do you keep glancing into the corner of my office Spots?"

"Ummm. Well, you… eh, you have a _super_ rare Gokemon in your office! Can I Just?" Said Clawhauser, aiming his phone into the corner of the office by the yucca plant and making the little ball-throwing swipe of his paw.

"Clawhauser! OUT!" yelled Bogo, standing up behind his desk and slamming both fists into it. Clawhauser fled, tail behind him like a streamer. Bogo snorted hot air out of his nostrils once, shut the door, and then sat down, put his glasses back on, and continued with his paperwork.

After about five minutes, he glanced at the yucca plant in the corner, snorted with amusement, and then kept working.

After about another minute he found himself glancing over again, and frowned to himself, before continuing to work.

"It's just a corner, there's nothing there." He said to himself, out loud about a minute after that.

"It's a damn corner! An empty corner!"

Thirty seconds after that, he got up, and moved his file cabinet, with a lot of squeaking metal and manly grunts, so it blocked his view of the corner.

Soon after that, he realised he wasn't working at all, just sitting arms crossed and glaring at the file cabinet, drumming his fingers on his desk.

Finally, with an air of bitter resignation, he moved his file back, got his phone out, and downloaded the app: he couldn't work with the idea that there was an invisible kids cartoon in the same room as him, just watching.

Tongue out with concentration, and feeling stupidly like he was making some sort of low budget found footage movie, he swept the room, holding the phone like a gun. He startled and almost dropped his phone when suddenly there was a bright blue and yellow _thing_ capering in the corner of his room, and the wondered what the hell he was supposed to do now. What was with this ghostbusters crap? What had Clawhauser done? Grinning, and eyes wide, he made the little throwing gesture with his finger, and on his third ball, managed to get the little blighter.

Straightening up his shirt, he nodded, satisfied with a job well done, put his phone away in his pocket, and went and sat back behind his desk, and got back to work. He had his dignity.

Thirty seconds later, he was peeking out from behind the blinds on his office window, trying to catch a view of the Gokemon his map showed were just outside the ZPD HQ in the fountain. If he angled himself and his phone just right, he could see right across the atrium.

He couldn't lie to himself. This was awesome!

* * *

At the lab, Nicholas Wilde paced the room. He glanced up at the other mammals in it: Bogo and his back-up, arms folded, glaring, Clawhauser, eager to hear what he wanted to say, naturally supportive, Remes disinterestedly playing with his phone, Zorilla-Gutiérrez leaning on the wall silent and watchful under hooded eyes, giving away nothing, Johnson and Johnson silently dismissive, eager for him to speak up and get gone….

Judy, looking at him head cocked on one side, curious, half hopeful, half inpatient. Torn between wanting to support him as a friend and needing to judge the quality of his deduction as a cop. Someone who wanted to be there for him, but needed him to do the job, and do it the right way.

 _She may be Judy Hopps, but she's_ _ **Officer**_ _Judy Hopps. She worked hard to earn that badge. She put her career, her whole life on the line for me, whether I'm into her, or just want to do right as a friend, I have to do right by that badge first, and by her second. That's the cost off this._ He realised. _Brains can make a detective, but the words on the badge make a cop: Trust, Bravery, Integrity._

 _Oh boy, Nick, are you in over your head._

Nicholas Wilde took a deep breath, and then begun.

"A crime has been committed here, a locked room mystery. A theft that couldn't have happened, taking something that people might have wanted to destroy, but that no sane mammal had reason to steal, and two tough predators kidnapped without the guard on the door seeing or hearing anything, spirited away without a trace, an imposable crime... but not for the reasons anyone thinks. Yes, this crime is impossible, but it's not the theft or how the perp or perps got in or out, or how or why the guard heard nothing that makes it imposable: it's simpler than that, something so obvious that most mammals don't even see it unless you look at it with utter, utter cynicism, and that's how I cracked it. Instantly saw why this wasn't what everyone else thought. An imposable crime, but not the crime that people thought was committed, and not impossible for the reasons that people thought."

"How so?" snorted Bogo. "Wilde, the number of things that don't make sense about this case are so bloody numerous you couldn't list them. What one thing is so unlikely in a crime were everything is unlikely?"

Nick put his palms together for a moment, and pressed two fingers to his lips for a second, before continuing.

"Okay so you're building some science-y computer related stuff, to solve the hugely complicated mathematical problem of fixing the false positives in the safety-net system….so you hire a mathematician and a computer programmer? Okay, fine: but this is complex, post-doc level stuff, needs highly intelligent, very well educated guys, right?"

Everyone nodded, except Bogo, who put his head on one side. _Ah, he's starting to get it._

"And what, more than eighty percent of computer science graduates are male? Only, what, seventeen percent of graduates in that field are female, only nineteen percent of engineering grads, Math degrees in particular are a real sausage fest… so, the mammals that Mister Remes could have hired for this project were, but the very nature of this project, _bound_ to be well educated, they had to be in order to do the work, and given the amount he was paying they were by default while collar and middle class, and statistically speaking, almost certainly bound to be male, right? Right?"

"So?" asked Johnson. "If you're going to make some trite liberal point about inclusivity…."

"That's not where he's going." growled Bogo, cracking his knuckles as he cottoned on. "Is it, Mister Wilde?"

Nick nodded his appreciation to Bogo, but continued his speak, un-interrupted.

"Not entirely, but it's a good point all the same. No… So say you were a kidnapper planning to steal the _SaftyNet_ software and kidnap the scientists that made it? And you want to get away with the kidnapping? Well, you are in for one hell of a problem, because guess what, not only is the security on the building pretty good, but both of the people you're going to kidnap are going to, by default, be well educated, well paid middle class white collar males? Ouch. Forget walls, and guards and cameras, forget locked room mysteries. You want to see an impossible crime, you want something that is literary imposable to do as a criminal? The one thing I spotted right away?

"Middle aged, middle class well educated males do not just disappear of the face of the earth.

"I mean, look at the statistics: a white-collar male 40 something goes missing, and the cops will be all over it, and the paper trail… he'll have a bank account and social security, a pension scheme, stock options and lawyers, people at his home owners association will notice he's missed meetings, his golf buddies will report that he's gone… Elmi Jamal, camel stock broker, went missing earlier this month and was reported in under three hours, found later by yours truly because there was a super clear paper trail to follow. If you are going to kidnap someone and get away with it, middle class forty-something males are _the_ worst case scenario: look at the statistics, if you go missing and you're young, female, uneducated and a minority, good luck with that, no one will ever find you again until they dredge that particular bit of the bay, if then, but two middle class scientists? How can that _ever_ happen without there being a paper trail that will lead to hundreds if not thousands of people of interest, each of them potential witnesses, helping you narrow down the last confirmed sighting of the missing person, following the money and eliminating leads, allowing the police department to do what they do and chase down the leads, do the legwork and crack the case?

"Well educated white collar workers just do not disappear, and if they did, it would be _super_ suspicious. Look at this case, really look at it. Class is the elephant in the room."

Everyone paused and looked around. Nick glared, and his eyes narrowed and ears went flat.

"Metaphorically: Come on people it's a common saying, there isn't actually a elephant in the ro… oh… sorry Francine… didn't see you there. "he said, as the elephant leaned in from the corridor: he'd forgotten that Bogo had wanted someone bigger than the rhino doorman present just in case he turned out to be as suspect, and the two of them were standing in the corridor.

He waved apologetically then pushed the door closed on Francine to stop her glaring at him, and found his train of thought again. " So… a potential kidnapper has a dilemma, kidnap and leave the mother of all trails for the cops, or call it off. But say they got lucky, rubbed the right lamp and got a wish from some Genie, and got to pick the background of their victims? Well, they still need to be the guys on the _SafetyNet_ computer system, so you can't change their level of education: if they're not high-end graduates, they won't be able to believably get hired. And likewise, there aren't many female computer science or maths grads, and the ones that do exist are as well connected and easy to trace as their male equivalent, easer, because they stand out by virtue of their sex, so you're still stuck there.

"What you'd need to do somehow, was have some white-collar middle class guys, who were in some way _not_ white-collar, and not middle class. Who were somehow disqualified, exempt from all the baggage of being well connected and powerful: guys with the degrees, but not the lawyers and social security and the home-owners committees that cops could chase down for leads. Middle class, but not.

"Hey, class is a weird thing, it's smoke and mirrors. Wealth, wealth is real, tangible, who's in the black, who's in the red, cash or card, credit ratings… stuff you can measure… class now… we don't even like to _talk_ about it as a society, but it's real, and it effects how you live your life, an how others see you. But boy, is it _fickle._

"Take me and Judy: look at us and talk to us, and what do you see? Young perky female, slight but noticeable country accent, a little unsure about city life, can't use chopsticks-"

"Hey! I was tired and they were _fiddly_!"

"Sorry, Carrot's but I'm getting to a point: you see someone with a country accent who's not _au fait_ with city life, can't tell their bobba tea from their Ti-Chi, and you make automatic class assumptions that they're some dirt-farming hick from the sticks, but Judy is in fact well educated, intelligent, and her folks are, on paper at least, the richer than anyone I've ever met. It's like the old saying: You can take the girl out of the farm, but you can't take the crushing socio-political constructs that secretly control life out of the girl. You can be the richest family in the county, but you can't take the blue out of that collar. Especially not, you know, in that police uniform.

"And then take me: well spoken, well turned out, urbane. Knows what's trendy at the latest spots, knows my way around city high-life and night-life. Articulate is a word I hear a lot to describe me, confident, a real slick city slicker… _devastatingly_ handsome and intelligent with a certain indescribable ethereal magnetism-"

"Focus, Nick!"

"Sorry Carrots… got a little carried away there. But you get the point, people talk to me and assume I've had a relatively well-off upbringing, not rich, but at least middle class: no doubt went to a good school in a nice neighbourhood, had a nice childhood, had the same opportunities that they themselves had, went to _SixFangs,_ got to play _Gokemon_ on their Gamecub as a kid…. The assumption that because you're well-spoken and well-presented and urbane, that you're of a certain background, but it's not always _true._ It's not _real_ , class is a perception: I grew up in _crushing_ poverty, living paw to snout, and my mom worked herself to the bone just trying to keep me clean and fed and presentable enough to stay a half-step ahead of social services, and in the end it _broke_ her. Long story short, The class system is a _hell_ of a harsh mistress, and it doesn't so much hinge on money, as on the _perception_ of money.

"So, you need to make two middle class males _not_ middle class, how do you do it? Well, there's a lot of prejudice against certain species, prey don't trust preds and visa versa, people always assume foxes are shifty and bunnies are cute and helpless and skunks are… well... erm…yanno…"

"Are going to spray them with weaponised skunk stink?" Said ZG calmly, when Nick broke off with embarrassment.

"Yeah, that….so, species, that's a good one to go for to skew people perceptions about class, but what if that's not an option? Remes, you said you needed canines for this project because only they could understand how scents moved around a city, and maybe that's the reason and maybe it's not, but say for some reason, you have to use a certain species, canines say… can't change species, sex or education level, how do you make someone just invisible enough to just disappear and leave no clues?"

Johnson A snapped his fingers "Some sort of cloaking device! I knew it!"

Nick stopped, and every stared at him with identical duck-faced _are you an idiot?_ expressions except for ZG who swore and face palmed, and Clawhauser, who said "Ohhh, just like in the Star Trek the Original Series episode _balance of terror!"_ , pointing eagerly at the computers in the room. "Maybe they _never even left the room_!"

Bogo face-palmed. "Did the water board replace all the chlorine with catnip today?" he rumbled, glaring. Clawhauser and Johnson had the good grace to look embarrassed.

"Accent." Said Nick, a little put out by the interruption. "How do you make a middle class worker not middle class? Make then foreign, or at least perceived as foreign. You see a wolf in a suit reading at a Starbucks, and you instantly form a certain opinion: he opens his mouth and speaks with a French accent and suddenly he's 20% more artistic, German more scientific, British more literary… and then he speaks with an Eastern European or Middle Eastern or Latin America accent and suddenly it cuts both ways, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes all it takes for society to perceive an intelligent, well-educated and well paid person as somehow less than their peers is a conspicuous Latin name." said Nick, eyes briefly flicking to ZG. "And the only sensible way two highly paid computer scientist could ever disappear from under the snouts of the authorities, even in a perfectly executed kidnapping, would be if both of them were undocumented migrants or Middle Eastern political refugees or something similar. They'd naturally try to stay off-grid, The cops would have nothing to go on, no paper trial to follow. They'd be chasing ghosts for years."

"And the odds that the two scientists would both _just happen_ to meet that very narrow profile, are so astronomically high that it's a bit of an insult to my intelligence to think it could ever happen by chance."

"So what?" said Johnson A. "the kidnappers somehow put in place people that were easy to kidnap? are you suggesting that they had somehow infiltrated _SafetyNet_ from the start?"

"By god." Said Johnsom B. "Our entire operation might have been compromised… but who? They'd need huge resources. The Chinese? Russians? Koreans? Iran?"

Bogo snorted. "A Little far-fetched…" he said, glancing to Judy. She held his slow gaze a second, and nodded, barely visibly, and loosened her cuffs from their hoister behind her back.

"It does seem a bit of a stretch, there must be a simpler explanation…." Agreed ZG, folding her arms in a way that, totally naturally, bought one paw close to her left lapel and the holster hidden by her 1980's suit's shoulder-pads. She glanced from Judy, to Bogo, to Nick and nodded.

Nick took a deep breath. "No. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, a locked room murder is a cleverly disguised suicide. A locked room theft is almost always an inside job, a mysterious arson is an insurance job, next to not exceptions. A theft and kidnapping that no one can explain isn't a theft or kidnapping at all…

"is it, Mister Remes?"

The wolf, who had unnoticed by everyone been looking over his phone and staring directly at Nick for some time, frowned.

"Look, _Poirot,_ I don't know what you're implying here…"

"No, _no._ You know _exactly w_ hat I'm implying here." Said Nick, sideling towards the Wolf ears down, muzzle ruffled and palm up, and Judy realised she'd not seen him this visibly angry since the press conference. "You know _exactly_ what I'm getting at, and the fact that you had the _gall_ to feed into people's prejudices like this, and to think that I'd be _dumb_ enough not to spot it is just, frankly, insulting. Also, you were rude to me and Judy and kinda stole tens of millions of dollars from homeland security, and two of those three I can't forgive."

"So, here's what I'm pretty sure goes down….

"Homeland tenders for computer scientists to get their latest bit of security theatre gimmick working, a lot of major tech companies look into it, and then they pass, because it's a difficult, difficult job and for lousy twenty million they can find better use of their time. A lot of them even think it's imposable. And then there's you: famed computer whiz-kid of the 90's, trying to bounce back from your second bankruptcy, and a nice little twenty-mil job just up for grabs. So you take it, and maybe you try to make it work at first, try to complete the job in good faith, and maybe you don't, but pretty soon reality comes calling and she bites you in the tail: we've both grown up in this city, Remes, and sometimes you'll walk along minding your own business and you'll smell food cooking from six blocks away and another day you're walking the same street and you don't notice the garbage truck about to run you over until it's almost on top of you. Tiny variations of wind direction, humidity and temperature, and the way scents move around the city change unrecognisably. An artificial nose network of mass-spec trying to make sense of all that? Good luck. You realise what every other tech company looking at this did….

" _SafteyNet_ is a duck. A dud. A red herring. A dead parrot. It's too ambitious a project. It can't work.

"So… two bankruptcies behind you already, no progress with this project, deadlines looming, and what do you do?

"Well, for a start you fire your original team, and start again from scratch. Hire new people: your old team goes out the window, and the mysterious Messrs Menéndez and Veisi are hired: two people with no officially traceable past, who no-one in their field has ever heard of academically. And suddenly, these two international mammals of mystery are hired and the project is going great all of a sudden, going perfectly, working well, you keep it going and you keep billing Homeland for work and they keep paying you, and then crunch time... time to show the assistant DA and the major and the fed's what their 20 _million_ dollars has got them…

"And then, suddenly, conveniently, someone breaks in and steals it, destroys all your notes, and kidnaps the two staff you would need to start over… two conveniently untraceable staff, who no-one can prove ever actually _existed_ except on the payroll that you wrote, mister Remes."

Remes laughed, hollowly. "Um, are you high? The security here logged them in every _single_ day, and out again: they passed the guard on the door twice every single day! You can see them come in every day on the CCTV! Menéndez had an apartment, ZG and homeland interviewed his landlady and got a description of him!"

"Oh, they did, and me and Judy did too, and we'll come to that… but as for the security here…. The CCTV is a little grainy, but sure, you can see every day at six a medium sized canine wearing blue overalls comes in. let's call him Menéndez for now... then you come in with you turtleneck and ironic t-shirt and second-hand jeans a little later in the morning, and then Veisi last of all in his tweed and slacks. And always in that order, every day. Odd, you'd think at least once one of them would be in late, or early or what have you, but no. every day, three medium sized canines, in the same order every day, and no one _ever_ sees two of them in the same place at the same time…."

Nick held out his paw, palm first, with his thumb pressed to his palm.

"Three." He said, wiggling his fingers. "and other than the clothing they all look alike on the cheap CCTV."

Remes frowned. "Look, I don't know what you're implying…." He said, taking half a step forwards towards Nick

"I think you do, mister Remes." Said Judy, materializing at his right hip and placing a paw on the sleeve of his jacket, gently restraining him, she glanced to Nick, who nodded, and continued.

"Sorry, you were saying mister Remes?" said Nick, cocking a paw behind an upraised ear, questioningly. "Didn't quite catch that… you mind if I continue?"

Remes, snorted, and shook Judy of his arm "This is farcical."

"Do you speak Spanish, mister Remes?" asked Nick.

The wolf paused, mentally thrown off balance. "What? Why do you ask?"

"Well let me answer that one for you… when I was in here yesterday and I tried to speak to Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez my Spanish was off, I got my sexing wrong, deliberately, I might add, but still conspicuously wrong … and you corrected me, didn't you?"

 ***flashback cut***

 _"_ _Que gata desagradable para el que trabajas!_ " _Nick said, managing to dredge up some half-remembered school Spanish lessons. Special Agent Zorillia-Gutiérrez smiled wanly at his attempt, but Remes winced at his mangled pronunciation "Gato,_ _Que_ **_gato_** _desagradable para el que trabajas_." _He said, in perfect Castilian. "You got your sex muddled." The wolf corrected._

 ***Present***

"Pretty good accent too." Said Nick, head cocked on one side, all compliments and vulpine smiles that never quite reached his eyes. "I mean, I doubt it would fool a native for a second, but an everyday _José Anglo?_ You'd probably come across as very convincingly Latino against some who didn't know better. Of course you'd have to be consistent, get into to character, have a few props here and there in case anyone checked…"

 _In the Menéndez apartment Judy turned back to Nick, who was idly wandering along the book-shelf, head cocked on one side to read the spines._

 _"Anything?" she asked. Nick shrugged._

 _"Not much in the way of light reading: Not a single novel or magazine, not even any pornography. No games, CD's or DVD's either: Just stuff relating to programing and the Spanish language, and all new books… not a dog eared page or creased spine on them, all mint and unfoxed…well, slightly foxed now." He added, poking one "Who'd have thought it?" He said, as if he was hinting at something, but Judy couldn't tell what. "I sure hope that our missing coyote had some fun out and about, because he sure wasn't having any here."_

"And even then." Said Nick, maintaining eye contact with Remes. " There would be some inconsistencies ….

 _"Plus there's no laundry basket." Said Nick, not looking up from sniffing at the sheets. "If he is changing them every day he's eating his linen for breakfast, because there's no place to put dirty laundry in the room. And that's a lot of laundry products for a canine: I use unscented detergents, most of us do: this amount of fake floral scent would drive me mad if I tried to sleep in it." He glanced sideways at Judy, and then scratched his neck pensively, sending up a little cloud of red hairs. "What do you think Carrots…. Carrots?" he asked, concerned as Judy stared at his neck._

 _"Nick, you're shedding."_

Nick glanced over at Remes, and then cocked his head on the other side. " Of course, coming across as Persian would be harder... or it should be, except for the fact that so few mammals in this city speak Persian or have ever seen a Persian golden jackal, that most wouldn't even recognise one if they saw one… so all, you need was to master a few token phrases… " said Nick, unfolding the Persian menu from his pocket

 _"If you want gluten free, I think they do a good fish and rice option at that Persian restaurant around the corner. It's not as faddy, but they do a good Sab-its Polo?" said Nick, mockingly dredging up details from the menus he'd seen littering the desk._

 _"Sabzi polow." Muttered Remes, correcting Nick's pronunciation again._

 _"Sabzi polow?" replied Nick, testing out the pronunciation. "Huh. I always assumed it was pronounced to rhyme with Polo. Like… Marco."_

 _"No, like pilau, as in Indian rice." Muttered Remes. "Can I just go now? Or do we have a minimum quota of talking about rice to get through?" he said glaring at Nick_

Nick turned the menu over in his paws, and then held it up for the room to see, the avert for the language course on the back clear as day.

"Of course, it's ridiculous to say that just because you could convincingly _sound_ Spanish or Persian you could pass without people noticing: why, for that to happen, it's almost like most eyewitnesses would have to be unobservant, disinterested and easily distracted people who didn't know they were going to get asked about it later by the cops …

 _Judy got her notepad flicked open again, and begun to eagerly make notes. "And the friend, what was he like?"_

 _Ğalfer scratched his neck, nervously. "Honestly? I've no idea: it was about two weeks ago and I was, um, distracted: there was a really hot guy in here dropping some pretty strong signals, and given how conservative this community is, you meet another guy who's openly into you, you don't miss the chance. His Friend? Another Jackal I think… no… maybe a coyote? I'm sorry. No idea."_

 ** _Flash cut_**

 _Judy sighed. "What can you tell me about Mister Menéndez?" she asked the landlady._

 _The taller, gangly older rabbit shrugged, and leaned on the doorframe._

 _"Perfect tenant." She said bluntly._

 _"Oh, so you knew him well?" asked Judy, eagerly brandishing her notebook._

 _Aso laughed. "You've never rented out a room have you? Not, quite the opposite, hardly ever saw him. Like I said, perfect tenant: no noise, no mess, never complained, unlike some mammals I could name…Paid his bills and rent on time, and in cash: exact amounts in my postal box. Didn't attend residents meetings, which shows he's smarter than I am, those things drag my dear, kept his bills small: next to no water or power usage, his mail box never overflowed, never had a loud party or brought back someone for loud sex, and in a block this small that's quite the blessing… hardly ever interacted with anyone. I feel bad saying this to a cop, but frankly I'd kill for six more like him."_

"Hey, now I don't know what you're _insinuating_ … but I don't like it. There is no way I could have imitated Menéndez or Veisi! Its… it's insulting… it's insane, someone would have noticed!" said Remes, brandishing a finger a Nick. "Hell, the security guard signed them in and out every day!"

Nick paused and gave Remes a blank look for a long time, and then turned to ZG or a moment.

"Sorry, Special Agent, could I borrow you for a second?"

By all means." Said ZG, glaring acidly at Remes and keeping her paw crossed near her holster as Nick lead her over to the door to the lab.

Nick glanced back to Remes… "Yeah, I guess you're right… I mean, there is no way you could convincingly fool a guard into thinking you were three different mammals just by changing clothes and accents, I mean, the guy you hired as your door guard is just top notch…" he said booting open the door.

 ** _Guard energetically headbanging away and singing along to "Drowning pool" in a small cloud of caramel apple vape while Francine looks on, disgusted._**

"Let the bodies hit the floor, let the bodies hit the floor…"

"Hey!" yelled Nick, when it was clear that a full room of cops glaring at him couldn't penetrate his shield of flavoured water vapour and, for once, pretty good metal.

The Rhino paused and swivelled sideways on his chair, squinting short-sightedly at Nick and ZG.

"Yeah?"

Nick pointed to Zorilla-Gutiérrez "Is this the badger you saw the other day?"

The rhino squinted. "Yeah, so?"

Nick cocked his head on one side. "Oh really, and tell me, badgers, do they usually have long, fluffy tails?" he said, glancing sideways to ZG, whose tail was habitually cocked up and was almost as tall as she was.

"Nah, little stumpy things. Why?" said the rhino, leaning back and vaping, glancing between Nick and the completely appalled Zorilla-Gutiérrez several times.

"What?" he said, after some time.

"No reason… keep up the good work." Said Nick, closing the door. As he did, ZG glared at the Rhino and made a rude hand gesture at the rhino. His eyes widened.

"Hey, wait, is that badger a skunk?" he asked, as the door slammed shut.

Nick paused for a moment, and then turned and addressed the room.

"An imposable crime had been committed, and here are the fact that we now to demonstrably be true: your career was hanging on this project; if it failed, you'd not get paid and your company would be in the toilet… but if the project was completed on time and under budget but then stolen, well, no blame could attach itself to you, right? Hell, you might even get paid to bravely start over from scratch and struggle on without your two genius workers.

"So, on the day of the' break in' and yes, I can't make quotation marks with my fingers any bigger if I tried, the day starts normally enough: a medium sized canine wearing overalls and speaking Spanish turns up at six and signs in as Menéndez. You turn up later, conveniently parking your car with the dash-cam facing the fire escape and thus convincing the initial investigators to ignore it as a way in or out, and walk in yourself. Shortly after that a medium sized canine in tweed walks in speaking English with a slight accent, let's call him Veisi. No one sees these mammals in the same place at the same time that day, and no one ever has, or ever will. A little later you leave, and go to fetch the assistant DA to show them the finished SafetyNet software. You take the subway, leaving your car filming the bottom of the fire escape to show there's no one there, a nice touch if you ask me. During this time no-one sees any attacker enter of leave the building, and the door guard doesn't hear any struggle… and you know, that's because I suspect there wasn't a whole lot to hear, was there?

"So, you get back at around twelve with the DA, and what do you find? The room is trashed, no SafteyNet software, no Menéndez, no Veisi, and the room wiped down with bleach and UV'd to death, no forensic matter found, exempt a small amount of your hair…. Just your hair, no Coyote of jackal hair, which is odd because as Judy pointed out to me when I messed up her uniform, every canine in the city is shedding in this heat-wave. And the room, trashed, all scratched up…" Nick held up his paw in a clawing gesture. And what was it Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez said…

 _"What… what made those?" asked Judy._

 _Zorilla-Gutiérrez shrugged "Could be Jackal, could be Coyote, could be a lot of things. Medium sized digitigrade pred." she held her paw up, and made a clawing gesture, indicating the space between thumb claw and pinkey claw. "Bigger paw size than me, or Mr Wilde, smaller than a tiger or bear: could be a very small puma or a very big lynx, but the bluntness of the claws suggests canine over feline so most likely one of the two missing researchers."_

"So, room trashed by a medium sized Digitigrade pred, probably canine. I noticed, Mr Remes, that you're pretty well groomed… that's quite the manicure you've got there, you've filed those claws back quite severely, and recently, too. You break a claw doing something?"

Remes suddenly checked both paws, looking them over.

"Made you look." Said Nick, mildly. "But seriously: room trashed by medium sized canine at an unknown time point, and then you arrive with the assistant DA at around twelve and-"

"The room was trashed by someone off their tail on _Nighthowler_!" protested Remes. "A needle laced in the damn stiff was recovered from the scene!"

"That it was… but you said yourself you had access to small amounts of _Nighthowler_ to test the safety net sensors, didn't you, sir?"

Said Judy, demonstrating that skill unique to police officers to use _sir_ as a curse word. She then glanced to Zorilla-Gutiérrez "I don't suppose you guys at homeland added some sort of maker to the _Nighthowler_ you handed out for this project, did you?"

"No... but the forensic lab at Quantizoo could run a trace element comparison between the dart recovered and the batch that Mister Remes's sample came from. I'd imagine that could be… interesting." Said the skunk, glaring.

Remes looked around, from mammal to mammal "This is preposterous, I don't have to hear this!" he said, storing towards the door. He then paused, and looked down and the huge hoof grabbing him by the arm.

"Then I'd suggest you put your fingers in your ears, sir, because you're not going anywhere until I say you are." Rumbled Bogo. The then looked up to Nick. "You were saying, consultant Wilde?"

Nick paused, a little taken aback at something so close to praise, and then continued.

"So just after twelve you and the assistant DA arrive, and find the place trashed. Then you immediately call Homeland security, and Special Agent Johnson, someone you know has no crime scene training immediately turns up and takes over, contaminating the crime scene, kicking out the ZPD, breaking the chain of evidence and generally acting like an utter idiot and being about as welcome as George RR Marten at a wedding planers."

"Hey! I'm standing right here!"

"It could be worse, sir, he could have said 'as welcome as a turd in a punchbowl'." Said ZG, loyally.

"Well there is that I guess…. Hey!"

"So, this is what I think happens…." Said Nick, while both Remes and Johnson A glared at him. "You realise the project is going nowhere, but you need the money, so, you invent two fake employees with intentionally hard to track down backstories, hire an congenitally short sighted and mostly burnt out metalhead door guard, and start coming in dressed as Menéndez.

"You come in early, change clothes in the lab, and exit thought the window. You go up, not down, and on the abandoned office in on the floor above, a floor with no security because you picked this building precisely so you and you alone could control the security arrangement, from crappy CCTV to half blind guards: that's why you're here and not at the tech hub downtown .

"From there, you can climb down the ladder set into the wall of the elevator shaft and exit unobserved via the basement. You kill some time, maybe grab breakfast, and then come back into the office dressed as yourself the door guard still thinks Menéndez is still in the room, and you go in to 'join' him.

"You then change treads again, and repeat as Veisi before exiting the lab via the basement and going off to spend your day doing something fun, or maybe just go back to bed, while the guard guards a completely empty room for ten hours, before you come in in the evening and repeat the process in reverse, with Menéndez and then you and then Veisi leaving, all with their conveniently staggered schedules.

"You spend a few days in the build up to the 'kidnaping' realistically trashing the lab and planting evidence, that note slipped under the door suggesting someone had a grudge with Veisi, Menéndez's fake apartment, and then you arrange it so at the time of the apparent kidnapping you're having a meeting with the assistant DA to give you an iron-clad alibi for that morning.

"Then, twenty million dollars better off you declare that without Menéndez and Veisi you can't even begin over from scratch, giving the Department of Homeland Security a plausible reason why there're never getting the computer program they paid for. Oh, and I'm guessing you took out some life insurance on your fake employees as well, I know I would, maybe short your own shares the day the theft is de-classified and the news goes public, something like that to maximize your takings…. Not bad at all, as a long con goes. You know… for an amateur that is."

"So, mister Remes, anything to say for yourself?"

Remes looked at Nick calmly.

"I'm sorry, is the bit where I'm supposed to do the thing that the murderer does in every Agatha Christie novel where I break and either confess or try and run and incriminate myself, just because you've laid out your implausibly intricate theory on how I did it? It's a good story, fox, a really nice theory on how the crime _might_ have happed. Just one problem: you don't have a shred of physical evidence to back it up. It's just a theory an amateur sleuth cooked up, you're not even a real cop! If, and I'm going to say it again, _if_ it ever went to court, and it wouldn't because the DA wouldn't touch this with a ten foot barge pole, but if it ever did, it's me by word against yours:"

Remes held a paw to his chest indicating himself and leaned in close to Nick smugly smiling in a way that stopped just short of barring his teeth, unknowingly mirroring Nick's _Sly fox_ speech the first day they'd met, Judy thought "Self-made millionaire genius: shifty street hustler fox."

Nick held his gaze for a long moment: "Well, technically I'm a self-made millionaire genius too," he said, putting his paw on his chest copying Remes's gesture " but more importantly, it's _not_ my word against yours. Is it?"

Nick held that gaze and long time, and saw, just there, that small flicker, for just a moment.

 _Ah. Got you._

 _"_ Carrots?" said Nick.

Judy moved forwards. "Before we came in here today, Sir, Nick and I picked up Ğalfer Jandek, volunteer at a Persian cultural centre in Sahara square, and Asase Nansi, landlady for an apartment in the triangle. Ğalfer claimed to have met an individual who turned up to collect a book for Doctor Veisi, and Asase was renting a room to Menéndez. Both are now in ZPD HQ, giving witness statements after completing a photo identity parade this morning."

Nick then took over.

"See, when Ğalfer said someone turned up to collect something for Veisi it got me curious, because no one seems to have ever interacted with Veisi, so who could collect a book for them? And Aso, calming to have met Menéndez, well maybe that means I was wrong about you imitating the two of them? So I thought, well, this is a lead, so I showed them both a photo, and asked them I that was the mammal they had seem, and guess what? I was right each time, got it in one, the mammal that Picked up the Book from the cultural centre, and the mammal renting the room under the name Menéndez, both I.D.'ed in one, an I.D. confirmed this morning by proper legally binding photo identity parade… and the fun bit? The same person picked up the book that rented the room, as identified by this photo."

Said Nick, flashing the photo on his phone to the room, it was a well composed, professionally done head-shot portrait of a grinning wolf, in a trendy second hand turtleneck.

"Now, unless I'm mistaken, that's the profile picture from your official Lucian Industries facebook page, isn't it?"

Remes scowled, for a moment, and then grinned.

"So? A student at some foreign cultural centre, and an immigrant slum landlady: my word against theirs? Heck, you could have put them up to it, because you _clearly_ have some sort of irrational grudge against me. I mean, you're not even a real cop! You expect witnesses _you_ found to fly in a court of law?"

Nick paused or a second, horrified, phone out, and then grinned.

"Ouch, now you see, it's things like that that hurt my feelings… isn't it Judy?"

Judy nodded. "We were having some real trouble tracking down the possible movements of Menéndez and Veisi earlier, sir: it was getting depressing and In an attempt to cheer up Nick, we went for ice-cream, and I had to look up the location on my phone, and apparently that was the exact right thing to say, because it jogged Nick's mind."

"It sure did," said Nick, waving his phone.

"I mean, technology is getting pretty darn sweet just now, we're living in pretty much a golden age of portable entrainment, were mostly everyone had a teeny tiny computer in their pocket that can check any information in the world, any knowledge, art and experience, or, failing that, let you get into political fights with strangers online, find celebrity sex tapes, and play stupid games aimed a Japanese ten year olds, and it is _so_ good!

"I mean, look at this, forget _SafetyNet,_ this is a good use of technology, an ultra-advance augmented reality device that take real locations and instantly, perfectly overlays them with advanced data from a server in real time and then logs the results back again, all just to make disgustingly cute cartoon critters appear out of nowhere so you can throw imaginary balls at them!

" _Gokemon Pro_ has got to be _the_ most insane over the top use of technology our culture has ever invented, and the sheer fact we use it for simple, innocent child like fun and that grown tax paying adults are into it is possibly the best statement possible about where we've got to as a society. We're not using it for war, or espionage, or even anything particularly serous, were all just playing a glorified Easter egg hunt…. But, you know, with slightly less bunnies." He said, Winking at Judy, who rolled her eyes.

"I mean, this is just awesome!" he said, marvelling at his phone as he booted up the game. As he did, it pinged, and then in response to the usual start up, the program tried to show other near-by users, and anyone who had their version running close by also got a ping on their phone.

Remes's pocket _Pringed!_ As did Clawhauser's, and Johnson A's… and Bogo's.

They all stared, as Bogo slowly, not letting go of Remes's arm, turned red with embracement.

Clawhauser Held his phone up and yelped with joy "Chief, you have the app? Oh My Goodness! What team are you? Blue? Awwwww. We can go and take gyms together!"

"Not NOW Clawhauser, I'm working! Honestly try and conduct yourself in a manner befitting a ZPD officer- it… it was probably just me getting a text or something…"

"No, it's the app." Said Nick. "You're showing up on my list on nearby users, you should maybe adjust the privacy setting if you don't want to. Huh Blue team too? What _is_ it with cops and the colour blue?" he asked, before breaking into a slow grin and turning to Johnson. "Yellow team? _Seriously?_ "

"Is there a point to this?" asked Johnson A, defensively that his pocket to silence his phone, and Clawhauser pinged him with a friends request . Nick glanced to Remes, and then back.

"Well, there sure is, because like most things that are great about the internet, there is a slightly sinister side to this game: just like facebook or Zoogle or all the others, this thing harvests a lot of personal data on its users, as Bogo just found out with his privacy settings… and because it relies on overlaying it's game users location with _real world_ locations, if you were, say, to take the time out of your day at the tech hub at Zootopia U to subpoena the game date held there, you can get an accurate minute by minute fix on the location for all it's users.

"Can't you, Mister Remes?

"See, we may not be able to prove all that I've just said about you being the same person as Menéndez and Veisi… but we can get your game logs and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that when you were on the clock, charging Homeland Security hundreds of dollars per hour for lab work, you were in fact running around midtown playing a child's anime game. And given you've entered into official witness statements claiming that you were in the lab, working with Menéndez and Veisi at those times, it's proof that you've been sneaking in and out of the lab unobserved and lying to the feds about it, giving you not only the motive for the crime I've laid out, but the means and opportunity as well."

Remes froze up, his face a ghastly rictus. "My account could have been hacked, someone else… it only proves a user logged into my account was out there, there's no proof it was using that phone at the time…."

"Expert that Articuno on your phone… only one has ever been captured in this city, only three on the continent, and all three now so famous that any Gym battles involving one would end up getting filmed by users and end up on _zootube_ in minuets…" said Nick, flipping over his phone to show one such video. "That's you, front and centre for red team, isn't it? Neat trick, considering your witness statement saying that you were in this lab at the time. And on top of that there's going to be eye witnesses to the guy with a Articuno running around the city, in app purchases that can be linked to the use of lures at specific locations, CCTV from gyms and other hotspots… basically, yeah, we can prove that your account wasn't hacked, and that you're spending your day playing this game."

"So, I'm guessing that even if we can't make my version of events stick fully, which I'm pretty sure we can now that we've proved you lied in you witness statement, we can still get you for billing the feds for work that you never did because you were playing _a kids anime game_ in the park at the time. And I'm guessing that counts as what? Fraud by false accounting?" he asked, looking to ZG.

"And Anticipatory Obstruction of Justice, under the 2002 definition, _Destruction, Alteration or Falsification of Records in Federal Investigations and Bankruptcy_." Said the skunk, smiling slightly.

 _'Whoever knowingly alters, destroys, mutilates, conceals, covers up, falsifies, or makes a false entry in any record, document, or tangible object with the intent to impede, obstruct, or influence the investigation or proper administration of any matter within the jurisdiction of any department or agency of the federal, state or city government or any case filed under Title 11, or in relation to or contemplation of any such matter or case, shall be fined under this title, imprisoned not more than 20 years, or both.'_ Added Judy cheerfully.

"Oh, I know that one! " said Nick. "And what's more as a pred with a total body length of more than four feet, tail not included, you'd have to be segregated from the general population for their protection and spend your time in a federal maximum security wing with the lions and tigers and bears and easily dropped soap, oh my." He said, grinning.

"So yeah, I think that that wraps it up pretty neatly in a bow, Lucian… do you mind if I call you Lucian? I mean self-made millionaire con artist to self-made millionaire con artist, you didn't do that bad, all told, you just weren't prepared to go up against some smarter than you." Said Nick, leaning an elbow on Remes casually as he contemptuously polished his claws on his lapels. "So, in addition to the case, I think we can say without much doubt who's proved themselves to be the smartest canine in the room Mister Re-"

Nick woke up on the floor, and immediately groaned and grimaced at the taste of blood in his mouth and the _blinding_ pain at the back of his skull where his head had hit the lino.

He blinked twice, clearing his mind and listening to the sounds of swearing and scuffling, as Judy slowly came into focus, looking down at him with concern.

"What… what just happened?" he asked, staring straight ahead at the striplights.

"You decided to monologue to the perp we were arresting, and _lean_ on him while you were doing it."

"Okay, so… why am I on the floor, and why does everything hurt?"

Judy glared her concerned expression temporary vanishing.

"Let me re-phrase that Nick: You decided to monologue to the perp we were arresting, who is a _wolf_ , a large dangerous predator more than twice your weight, and lean on him while you were doing it. Remes decked you."

"What?"

"He punched you in the face: turns out as well as all that paleo diet stuff his yuppie wellness regime included some decent boxing practice because it was a good clean hit. Snapped your head back very neatly, Furschia would have been impressed, you went down in one." Said Judy, pulling out a sim LED penlight and checking Nick's pupil response for concussion.

"He probably would have mauled you too, he had his teeth bared and was about to bite when Bogo flattened him from behind. It was pretty impressive, the chief sure can move fast for a big mammal when he wants to, no one even saw him _move_. " she said, in tones of muted awe as she checked the back of Nicks head for a skull fracture, elating an "Ouch" and some sight pained giggles and she accidentally tickled his ears in the processes.

"Ugg… really? Well, I guess that serves me right." He muttered, slightly groggy as he rubbed at the back of his head, wrinkled his snout in a pained wince, and pushed himself up onto one elbow. "How long was I out for?"

"Oh, a whole six or seven seconds by my count." Said Judy, grabbing him by the muzzle and turning him to face her. "hey, I'm trying to check you over here, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Judy, I'm sure, you only _have_ three fingers." Muttered Nick, rubbing at his head and looking around.

Remes was flat on the ground, one paw in a handcuff but still fighting, kicking and snarling and snapping his jaws as Bogo held his arms, trying to get the last arm into the handcuff, while Clawhauser helped, doing a surprisingly good job because being both morbidly obese and properly trained in police take down procedures, when he pinned you, you stayed pinned. ZG was kneeling facing Remes while Bogo held the scuff of his neck, trying to get a set of flexi-cuffs over the wolf's muzzle, while he snapped at her with jaws that could have easily taken off a finger of broken one of her arms. Nick noted that despite the scowls of concentration, all three had a sheen in their eyes of something like keenness: the joy of real cops who had spent too long stuck behind desks and were enjoying the opportunity to actually razzle an angry perp for once.

"Hey, hey!" yelped ZG, as Remes nipped at her fingers, keeping his jaws open too wide for her to get flexi-cuffs over his muzzle. "Hey!" she yelled, reaching into her suit pocket and pulling out a slim metal cylinder. "Hey, keep that and and I swear to god, I will spray you _cabrón!_ "

Literally everyone in the room froze up in horror, and Both Nick and Judy leaned back to get farther away, Nick actually grabbing Judy and ducking behind her, ears flat.

ZG, swore and sipped the cuffs over Remes's muzzle and tightened it before she realised that everyone else had frozen up. It took her a moment of staring back at them, her suit and fur slightly ruffled, to realise why.

"Oh COME ON! Pepper spray! I _literally_ have a can of mace in my paws right now, what did you _think_ I meant? I'm not a savage, you dumb bigots!" she said, waving the can around. "Honestly!"

"You could have phrased that better!" said Nick, peering out from behind Judy nervously.

ZG made a rude hand gesture at Nick, flashing a brief smile "Swivel on it Foxy…. Hey, you start struggling again and will spray you in the _eye_ Remes! Does anyone have a proper…" She started, before Bogo manged to get a Muzzle out from one of the pouches at the back of his belt, and tossed it over.

Nick grimaced slightly. "Is the muzzle really necessary?"

"Hey, you didn't see the way he went for your throat." Said ZG, helping Bogo slip it over Remes's snout.

"Besides, it's procedure: Hippos and any pred with a body length of over four feet, tail and ears not included, get a muzzle, and stab-resistant mittens too if they have dangerous claws." Said Bogo, boldly hauling Remes off the floor now he'd got him secured, shoving him into a corner and patting him down _super_ thoroughly, Nick noticed slightly shocked with just how far up the inside leg Bogo checked, and how he even made sure the brush of Remes's tail wasn't hiding anything.

As he did, Johnson A grabbed Remes, and slammed him up against the wall. The Homeland Agent was not looking happy, in fact he looked about ready to vomit.

"No! where is it. Remes? Where is it, the damn fox _can't_ be right, we sunk twenty Million into this! _Twenty million_ and I was the agent in charge! You can't tell me it's all fake, My career will be ruined! I'll be back supervising the night shifts for the TSA in some god awful airport in the middle of nowhere!"

"Assuming they don't just fire you or put you on pre-Invasive Search duty." Said ZG, helpfully "I mean, some might mock it, but paying a pred with a good sense of smell to aggressively sniff any… regions… on the bodies of travellers where you suspect they might be carrying contraband is in many ways a noble calling."

Johnson stared, horrified, and both Nick and Remes had to hold back a chortle of laugher.

"I'm not saying anything until I speak with my lawyer, but hypothetically, if I _had_ faked the whole think, it would be worth the jail time just to see you fail and get to punch that fox, you smug, _stupid_ little bureaucrat!" hissed Remes, from behind his muzzle.

Nick frowned at that: "Why does everyone _always_ say that? Am I that inherently punchable!" he wondered, out loud.

"No comment." Said Bogo, grabbing Remes and pushing him and Johnson apart.

"I staked my career on this!" yowled Johnson, falling to his knees and sobbing, as Bogo pulled the door open, and practically tossed Remes to Francine. "Get him out of here a booked in Francine, fraud and obstruction, oh, and add a count of assaulting an officer and resisting arrests too, for good measure."

"Wait… did you just count me as an officer?" asked Nick, rubbing the back of his head and feeling the forming lump. Bogo sighed.

"You're on the clock, so I have to. Civilian consultants have the right not to be assaulted like any other ZPD employee or contractor. It doesn't mean that I mean it, Wilde."

"Meh, okay, but it's a technicality more I'm happy to take."

"Given it's a technicality that involves you getting punched, that makes two of us." Said Bogo, coolly. "Officer Hopps, stellar work as always, I look forward to your report and timesheet no later than oh nine hundred tomorrow. Special agents…" he said, nodding goodbye to the Johnson's and the ZG. "Wilde." He added, almost as an afterthought.

Nick grinned, and nodded back. "Bogo. I mean, technically as a civilian, I shouldn't call you chief, should I? Ummm, hate to pry… but seeing as I've passed this test case…"

"I'll finalise you contract _tomorrow_ Wilde, In the meantime, officer Hopps, this is technically your case." Said Bogo, nodding towards Francine and Remes. "Would you do the honours and lead our guest to the squad car outside?"

"I'd be delighted, Sir! Nick… you want to step out with me?"

Nick grinned and the slight un-intentional double meaning there, and flicked out his aviators.

"Absolutely." He said.

 ***Slow motion, over-saturated shot of walking to the tune of** ** _Bad Boys_** **by Inner Circle, as the mammals in the room spill out the front door and onto the street, the Rhino guard cussing and walking away, looking for a new job, Johnson A staggering out in tears, Johnson B trying to ignore him, ZG lighting up as she steps out on the the sidewalk, Bogo and Clawhauser slamming the double doors wide open for Judy and Francine lead Remes away, cuffed and muzzled and the first paparazzi reporters on the scene start to snap shots, and Nick, wind ruffling his fur and his Hawaiian shirt bringing up the lead, pushing past the door and just bruising it with one paw as he steps out, glasses on head, and phone in one hand.**

*The music playing suddenly becomes slight tinny and far less epic, almost drowned out the normal city street noise, and a close up on the phone in Nick's paw to indicate that Nick is actually playing it out of his phone as he follows Remes around, grinning. *

Remes looked over to Nick, disgusted. "Seriously?" he asked, as Francine kept a trunk on his shoulder, and Judy put a paw on his head and guided him into the back of the patrol car. Nick grinned, and the door was slammed, just showing the reflection of Nick's face over Remes's before the car pulled away.

Nick and Judy looked to each other, and nodded.

Judy, held out a paw. "Good bust, partner."

Nick smiled, and took her paw "That it was… Partner."

*Close up on shaking paw*

* * *

"- Details are yet to be released on the circumstance surrounding the arrest of Millionaire industrialist and former dot com billionaire Lucian Remes, but it is believed to be linked to embezzlement or miss-management of contract for Homeland's security's new Safety Net sensor grid. In related news, The Transport Security Administration released a statement today that, despite the interference, the Safety Net system had gone live this morning as planned.

 ***Screen shows Johnson B addressing the camera from behind a podium with the homeland seal, ZG in background but Johnson A no-where to be seen.**

"This begins a new age in the fight against designer drugs and terrorism, particularly the substance known of the street as Nighthowler-"

Nick, Judy and ZG sat in the corridor outside Bogo's office, watching the story score over the big screen in the atrium.

Nick frowned, disgusted. "Wait, the system was a complete bust! It does nothing!"

"I know that." said ZG, trying to smoke indoors without getting caught. "You know that, Judy knows that, Remes and select few at homeland and the ZPD know that… and that's where this stops. Officially, _Safetynet_ is up and running, and the number of backstreet _Nighthowler_ dealers who panicked and got caught trying to skip town with their entire labs this morning is gratifying proof that it's working. Security theatre: it's like the nuclear deterrent, it doesn't matter if the hardware works, so long as everyone _thinks_ it does."

"But we didn't even find the accounts Remes had paid his cash into!" said Judy. "We haven't recovered a penny: Homeland just threw twenty million away, for nothing!"

ZG snorted. "By their standards _conejita_ , that's practically a bargain, and mention this to anyone, and I'll make sure you regret it for ever."

"Duh. Speaking of regrets, did they fire Johnson A? I don't see him on TV." Asked Nick

ZG winced, choking back smoke. "Some turds won't flush, I'm afraid: no, he's getting kicked upstairs, promoted sideways into a dead end job."

"Oh, like you… sorry. Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" yelled Judy.

ZG laughed. "Actualy, this little incident has got me moved away from Homeland. I'm on a new permeant secondment, they weren't quite ready to bring be back from political exile just yet, but I'm now overseeing federal integration with other stakeholder agencies in Zootopia, which as far as I can tell past the buzzwords, means working as a go-between between the various federal bodies, and the city government, ZDP included, so, I'll probably see you guys again some time and-"

She looked over sideways: Bogo had opened his office door, and was standing there, looking horrified. "Are you smoking on my balcony?"

"Opps, got to run, good luck!" said ZG, patting both Judy and Nick on the backs, and running for the stairs.

Bogo glanced after her, genuinely upset that she was smoking indoors, and then looked down to Nick, and scowled.

"Oaky." He said, gesturing him into his office. "Let's get this over with" he said, booting the door shut with a hoof when Nick and Judy were inside.

 ***SLAM!***

 **Close up of stamp being pulled up from a piece of paper leaving a large red "Approved" stamp on Nick's consultant's contract. Close up on his new, full-time consultants I.D. going thought a laminator in Bogo's office with exaggerated , Edgar Wright style emphasis on sound effects.**

Nick sat in the chair in front of Bogo's desk, with Judy sitting at his side, and looked at the little square of laminated plastic in his paws and wondered how _exactly_ his life had got to this moment.

"Wow… my very own Consultant's badge. I hate to sound like a suck up, but Bogo, Chief, thank you. I'll… I won't let you down."

"You're here: that's let down enough for the both of us." Growled Bogo "But I can't deny, that nasty little mind of yours seems to be useful, and frankly, I can see I'm going to have to integrate you deeply with the ZPD."

"Really?" said Nick, flattered.

"Of course: you've proven I certainly can't trust you out at liberty. This way officer Hopps can keep an eye on you."

"Ah… _better inside peeing out, than outside peeing in…_ well okay, I'm good with that too."

Bogo leaned over his desk. "This doesn't make you a cop, Wilde!" he said, leaning over the desk and grinning evilly, one finger raised and pointing.

"One slip up, one procedural problem or you step out of line for just one moment, and you backside is grass, Wilde, and I'm an obligate grazer!"

"Ummm. Okay, needlessly weird threat taken in. Thank you anyway?" he asked uncertain, as Judy snorted back amused laughter, and Hopped down off the chair, holding up a paw to help him down.

"I'm watching you, Wilde: keep within the law, don't mess with police procedure, and for pity's sakes, get or high school equivalency and a drivers permit! Furschia will still crew you up and spit you up at the academy, but to even get to that point, I expect you to work your tail off, get me?"

"Umm, let's see, my boss hates me, wants me to fail, and is trying to work me into an early grave… so… still slightly better than my last retail job. No, that all seems to be in order. Did, did you have to use _that_ photo of me for my consultants I.D.?" asked Nick walking towards the door, before showing it to Judy. "I mean, seriously, of all the photos of me, that's the one we went with?"

"Hey, I like that photo. I took that photo, Nick!" said Judy

"When you were processing my statement after Bellwether attacked us in the museum, I was super tiered and high on adrenaline, look, my tongue is hanging out! Jesus, I look super derpy in this!"

"Hey, it's kind of cute, and you _did_ say to find a photo where you don't looks smug, so that's it, seeing as you _always_ look smug." Said Judy, saluting Bogo and walking Nick out of the door. "I mean, what do you want?" she said, teasingly "You want me to take you down to the cells were we do the mug shots and host you a full on fashion shoot?"

"Well now that you mention it, yes. Hell yes. Did you're parents remember to send up the pumpkin and Gingham dress for me?" said Nick, leaning on the open door-frame to Bogo's office.

Judy laughed, but then her phone pinged, and she checked her texts, and groaned.

"Uggg, I'm late for evening patrol with Francine, sorry Nick, duty calls: city centre, and the frat boys and bachelorette parties are out in force, got to go chase drunks. Wish me luck!"

"Good luck! Hope no one pukes on you!" he said, half-jokingly as Judy made a rude paw gesture and him, and jogged off down the stairs to spend the next twelve hours wresting angry drunks into the back of a squad car and looking like she would genuinely enjoy it.

 _Cops._ He thought. _Why did it have to be cops? What in the world have I gotten myself into?_ He smiled. Right now, he wouldn't have it any other way.

"I didn't recognise you, you know." Said a voice behind him.

Nick frowned, ears falling flat, and then turned slowly. Bogo was watching him from behind his desk thought the still open door of hs office.

Nick froze up for a moment, and then made a joke of it. "Well, yeah, the I.D. photo you guys picked is just _awful."_

"Back at Tujunga sky trams, when we first met. " said Bogo, as if he'd not heard Nick. "When you tried to stop me taking Judy's badge, I didn't recognise you, not until you got on the sky-tram and left, that's when it clicked. I'm sorry."

Nick grimaced, and then scratched at an ear, nervously. "Well, I didn't blame you for not recognising me. You'd have meant me, what, once, for less than an hour two decades ago. I'd have been twelve, I'd hardly recognise me from that."

"But you recognised me." Said Bogo. It wasn't a question. Nick hesitated, and then nodded.

"Yeah, I knew you on sight. You've changed over twenty years, but you were a grown adult then, so not changed so much as a kid would. And besides, You'd kind of remember that, wouldn't you? I grew up in a rough neighbourhood, it... it still wasn't every day you got home and found a police lieutenant in your moms kitchenette."

"I'm sorry." Said Bogo. "That case didn't pan out well, for anyone involved."

Nick froze up, wanting to say something, but then took a deep breath, and repressed it. "No. No it didn't." he said, walking away from Bogo. Bogo didn't follow, or make any move to say anything.

Nick spent a long moment just standing in the main atrium of the ZPD and listening to the bustle of bodies around him, thinking about everything that had happened to him since he'd met Judy, and how to process all the stuff that had happened to him.

And then he remembered what his shrink had said about getting it all down in writing, and, taking a seat by the little indoor garden, he took out his phone, and started to dictate some thoughts into it to write up later.

 **Voice over starts. Camera slowly pulls back on Nick**

"Zootopia's the finest city in the world, and all life is here. But, unfortunately despite what the posters say, real life is messy. You muddle thought it, not really knowing what to do, there just so _muc_ h, there's too much to take in, your brain can't processes it all. And, seeing as we _are_ animals, our brain has evolved to keep us alive. Look for dangers, look for opportunity… how do I eat? How do I not get eaten? So, when we find something too complex to our brains to understand, our brain fills in the gap: there's a gap between perception and reality."

"We make assumptions"

"We make assumptions based on species, we make assumptions based on sex, gender, sexual orientation, and, unfortunately, we make assumptions based on class."

 _In his apartment, Charlie the horse snuggled on the sofa with Ğalfer Jandek. In the apartment next door, Aso sat reading about the arrest of Lucian Remes in the news, and wondered where she could find another scheming millionaire to rent that apartment: at least the rent was always on time._

"There's a class system in the world, and you find anyone trying to tell you otherwise, then they're selling something."

 _Lucian Remes looks dead into the camera, emotionless as they took his mug shot at booking. Due to striking Nick and he wealth making him a flight risk, he'd been denied bail and got moved to the maximum security wing at the county gaol. As he was taken to his cell and the bars slid closed he noticed the small female sheep watching him from the cell opposite. "Oh dear." She said, her glasses flashing as she cleaned the lens on her uniform "I take it this means that Homeland's little artificial nose project is a bust." Said Dawn Bellwether, putting her glasses back on, the refection in them blocking out all trace of emotion. "What a pity."_

"Trust me, I'd know: I spent twenty years selling something… but, the point _is_ , that… that it shapes how you see yourself. Other people see you a certain way and you kind of of bow to the way they see you…"

 _Clinging to the overhead rail on her Subway car on the way home Zorilla-Gutiérrez noticed an advert for a vintage fashion fare, 80's power suits a speciality, and spent a moment amusing herself by getting her refection in the glass to line up with the model on the poster. As she did she noticed a passenger getting onto the train cart behind her , a pig, suddenly freeze, look up from her phone and double-take at seeing a skunk directly in front of her, and slowly back out of the cart and decide to wait for the next train. ZG briefly considered saying something or turning and glaring at them, but instead just sighed, and reached into her purse and slightly self-consciously added an extra dab of Mon Parfum Cherie Par Camille to each wrist._

 ***exasperated sigh From Nick.***

"You assume that someone with a rural accent or county manners is gonna be unsophisticated or uneducated, and it changes the way you perceive them, and that can be really really hurtful."

 _On a midnight donut break, Judy sat in her squad car next to Francine, turning the pages of CRC Press's "_ _Police_ _and Profiling in Zootopia : Applying_ _Theory_ _to Criminal Investigation." In between bites of apple fritter._

"You assume that someone who's well-spoken and well turned out in their appearance must have come from money, so you talk about shared life experiences as if they've come from money, but if they've never had the chance, had the opportunity to experience those thing you're talking about, then… then that really stings. And most of the time, they won't say. They'll put a brave face on it" Said Nick, trying to ignore some nearby cops talking about how great Six Fangs was.

"You make assumptions that if someone's from a rough neighbourhood they can't have particular interests, can't like a certain kind of fashion or a certain kind of music,

 _Lying on his back on the trunk of the car just outside of the city limits, Finnick crossed his hand behind his head over his tote-bag, looking at the stars as the opera washed over him. After a moment his phone pinged, and he checked the text: it was the location of tonight's fight; they never gave the location out until the last minute, to keep I secure. He checked his bag: gum-shield, wraps for his hands, box, because some punk always went for the crotch shot, and an inhaler, half filled with a dark blue liquid. He hatted that stuff, but with everyone else using, it was the only way to win now a days._

"You make assumptions that if someone's a hard-ass that they can't be a colossal geek,"

 _Sitting on a park bench by the fountain outside ZPD HQ and eating his lunch, Chief Bogo surreptitiously looked to his left, and then his right, checking that no one was paying him any attention. When he was sure that Clawhauser wasn't about to pop out and see him, he pulled out his phone, booted up the game, and selected a lure._

"….or that if someone's a geek that they can't be super into sports, or the great outdoors…"

 _On a battered sofa in her armament Drill Sergeant Furschia cursed, and buried her face in her paws, hiding her eyes with her Packers jersey while next to her Clawhauser screamed excitedly in his Jag's shirt, waving a team flag ecstatically, before hi-fiving a deeply cross-eyed Opaki over Furschi 's head._

"The point I'm saying is, life is full of assumptions, even when it shouldn't be, and like they say, when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me."

"Hey" objected a passing Donkey police officer.

"Oh, sorry… didn't see you there." Said Nick, back at the station. He took a moment to find his place mentally, and start talking into his phone again.

"The point _is_ … You're going to keep making assumptions, even though you know you shouldn't. You just shouldn't. Because when you make assumptions about people you can hurt them, you should try to get to know them to see past all the stereotypes of species and class and nationally, the way they look and the way they speak, the way they dress, and get to know the real person. "

A small deer sat next to Nick, took one look at the fox talking to himself and quickly got up again, and just as Nick had started to think something nasty, he noticed it wasn't that she was avoiding him, but she'd spotted some friends, bachelorette do going by the matching clothes, being bailed, and she'd run over to great her friends, including a small Kitt fox she hugged. Nick smiled.

"But, that's messy: and frankly, this is a big city. You don't want to get to know the real person next to you, because the real person next to you might mug you. You, um… you kind of keep making assumptions. And even the people you do get to know, even the people you really care about and work at trying to know, trying to see the real person, trying to understand… you'll still sometimes make assumptions about them, and whoopsie, it'll hurt them. And they'll do the same to you."

 _"Carrot fitter, Carrots?" asked Nick, holding out the bag of snacks as he and Judy walked along thought the attractions at Six Fangs. He'd let her talk him into coming._

 _"Ugg, no, fried carrot is way too sweet for me, but thank you for the kind, if stereotyped gesture." She said, shoving him good naturedly, and he took a deep breath, and dicided this was a good a moment as any._ Just man up and say it. _He thought._

 _"Hey Judy, crazy thing, but Judy I'm in-"_

 _"Oh my god, Nick, there's next to no line for the_ Spinesnapper! _Nick you want to ride a roller-coaster with me?"_

 _Nick Wilde stopped, struggling to get it out, and then snorted, grinned, and gave up for now._

 _"Depends, are you going to scream?"_

 _"Hell yeah!"_

 _"Well, okay then." He said, getting into line next to her. "But don't go coping a feel and then claiming afterwards that it's just you grabbing my tail for comfort, Clawhauser did that to me on the last ride." He said, wishing that he could just spit it out._

"So, I'm not going to tell you not to make assumptions. I'm not even going to tell you to try not to, you already know that. I think the best lesson we can take away from this is"

"When you're walking down the street, and you make assumptions about people, just try to assume the best."

"N."

Nicholas Wilde lay back nervously on the bench at the shrinks, while the platypus read his first blog-post.

"N? seriously? I understand anonymity, but that's not a pen name, that's an artsy porn name." said the platypus

"Yeah, a little, but _SexyUrbanFox69_ was taken. So, what do you think?"

"Honestly?" said the shrink, handing back Nicks phone. "Well, I think getting it all down on paper is good for you, and I can see that putting it out publicly could help you open up. You'll need to edit out a few bits here and there, you go into this classified _safety net_ project in way too much detail, but seriously? Not a bad start, Nick."

Nick blew of relief like steam "Oh thank god, when I was writing it I was terrified everyone would hate it!"

"I like how you touch on your family, but still light on detail, I note there's nothing about your dad. You spend more time commenting on Judy's driving"

"Well, I didn't want to give him more time and effort than he gave me. Ugg, I used to have this dream as a teenager, that I'd make it big, pull a really big con, and then have this real, real fancy car and drive it around, like, not just as a status symbol but also the freedom, to go anywhere I wanted whenever I wanted…. and one day I'd just be cursing, and I'd see him, just crossing the street, and I'd never know what to do at that point."

"Ah, do you confront him and let him see you've made it when he hasn't or just keep cursing?" asked the doc.

"What? No: do I hit the breaks or give it some gas and try to get him while he's still on the crosswalk!" said Nick. "No, my dad was… a problem. But it doesn't matter, he stopped being there for me a long… long time ago. He's not going to affect my life any more, one would hope."

 **Fade cut to strip lights and ducting on a bare concrete ceiling. Pan down to show chief Bogo, walking down a narrow corridor between two rows of shelves, clearly in an archive somewhere, folder under arm. Determined facial expression.**

Chief Bogo passed a boiler, and then turns and pushes open a door labelled "records". Lights turn on automatically on a motion sensor, with a little ping.

Bogo walked thought the History of the ZDP. All records since 2000 had been fully digitised, but older records, they lived down here, less important administrative records in the stacks, case files and criminal records neatly filed alphabetically.

Moving by memory, Bogo quickly cut out 98% of the room, and headed for the end of the alphabet, turning into an aisle labelled "W". he had to be careful not to hit the boxes with his horns, the aisles were old steel file cabinets filled with criminal records and police employment records, sometimes both for informants, but sitting on top of those in cream cardboard boxes, were the cold-cases: the unsolved crimes whose statures of limitations hadn't expired yet, sorted by victims surname. Homicides, mostly.

Pausing at the correct cabinet, Bogo Quickly checked the slim file in his hands again Wilde, N. (Nicholas,): Convictions none, arrests none, cautions one, formal commendations for bravery, one. Not much to go on, could go either way he thought , sliding open the draw and putting it back in its proper place.

As he did so, he hesitated, and reached out a two fingers, and begun to walk them thought the files.

Ignoring Wilde, O, an hundred year old case and not the proudest moment in the ZPD's history considering it was meant to be a progressive department now-a-days, Bogo let his eyes fall of the four-inch thick file just one removed from Nicks, and then picked it up.

Wilde, P. (Piberius).

As he did, something fluttered out of the file, and onto the floor. Bogo stooped to pick it up.

It was a photo, in the vibrant colours and slight less than perfect composition of Kodak, who you could take a hundred digital shots and pick the best but got stuck with what you had. It was a portrait shot: a family.

The tall, handsome dog-fox in the slightly cheap suit flashed a winning grin at the camera, two paws protectively on the shoulders of the slightly tired looking vixen in the purple dress sitting on the chair, centre of shot, her paws in turn resting on the shoulders of the fox cub, ginning at the camera and snapping off a smart salute, the green of his Junior Ranger Scouts uniform dark against his fur.

Bogo shuddered, and put the phot back in the file, and shit the file away in the draw. As he did so, he tried and failed to stop his eyes flicking to the cream box on top of the cabinet.

 **Fade back to Nick.**

"But we can do that another time" said Nick, dismissing the idea "… the main point is, you liked my blog?"

"It's good, you've opened up well."

"Thank you." Said Nick, smugly

"-But I note there's nothing in here about telling Judy how you feel… you _did_ tell her how you felt, right Nick?"

"ummm, yeah… sort off…."

The platypus glared over his half-moon glasses. "You wimped out didn't you?"

"Oh, I totally wussed out." Said Nick, starring at the ceiling, eyes wide and smile hollow. "Help me Doc." He heard writing, actual writing, and turned to see the doctor had gone into a draw next to his chair, and got out an actual pen and and a small brightly coloured pad.

"What, what are you doing? Wait, you actually own pens?" he said, with mock shock as the radio in the corner played 90's hits.

 **K-Topia Marathon:** Nirvana, _come as you are._

"You'd be surprised by what I have in these draws. Okay: I'm writing you a prescription for a pair of testicles." Said the shrink, taking the post-it and slapping it onto Nick's forehead. "Okay, Nick, that's time. And for god's sake, spit it out, or you're going to lose her. The worst that can happen is she'll be disgusted, reject you and crush you totally, and that a good two years of paid work for me. Oh and get some exercise, you're too out of shape to be a cop: I do cricket every weekend and a Capoeira class every Tuesday just to stay in shape, if you mentally well but a fatass you'll still washout."

"Gee, thanks doc. Real classy." He said Nick, stirring and sitting up on the couch while the Doctor put the pen and sticky notes away. "Same time for the next session?"

"Sure, wouldn't want to miss my favourite criminal."

"What, no love for your mythical mob assassin?" Said Nick, grinning.

"Nah, that guys a _real_ jerk." Said the Doc, half-jokingly. "and I never said he was mob, he's freelance." Nick rolled his eyes at the joke, and turned to go.

"Ummm. Nick?" he asked, as the fox was about to leave.

"Huh? Yeah doc."

"One thing that seems weird, and I hope you don't mind me saying this, but you're chewed up inside about most everything… _except_ the fact you're a recovering con-artist. Are we ever going to address that? Does, didn't it bother you, tricking people and taking their money?"

Nick paused, seriously considering it for the first time. "Yeah, a little but you just rationalised it." He said. "You just didn't think about the people that could get hurt, told yourself at least you weren't using physical violence, and if that didn't work, you just told yourself that it's nothing personal, it's just a con."

"Yeah, well, I'd imagine that assassins say a similar thing just…. Play it right, Nick. Okay, get out, I have other patients today." Said the Shrink, and Nick grinned and walked out.

After a moment, when he was sure that Nick was gone, the platypus sighed, and reached into the top draw and pulled on and switched off his Dictaphone, and the pulled out the laptop, and started writing up his notes on Nick, using the recording for reference. He made it a point to make sure every one of his patents "found out" that he didn't take notes, and it made them all feel special, like they were the only one he really cared about and he was just phoning it in for the rest. He, in fact, kept very careful notes, and was thoughtful and dedicated in what he did, as much as he didn't want anyone to know that. He had his pride, hidden away in this top draw.

After about ten minutes of transcribing, the intercom buzzed.

"Not now, Carrol, I'm trying to get this down while it's fresh and-"

"Sir. It's him." Said Carrol, her tone flat and dead of all emotion.

The platypus paused. He only had one client she spoke about in that way.

He licked the place where his lips would have been, and then said. "Give me thirty seconds, and send him in." he said, nervously putting his stuff back in the top draw. Having an assassin as a client may seem cool in a S _opranos_ or _Grosse Point Blank_ kind of way, but in messy real life, it just meant that sooner or later, you needed to spend some alone time with someone who killed people.

He pulled open the _bottom_ draw, and glanced for a long moment at the .380 semi-auto, and then closed the draw again, chiding himself: if it came to violence, the gun wouldn't shift his odds any, not with this guy.

"Send him in Carrol, oh and get us some coffee, please, double expresso for me and..."

"Latte, extra foam, I know. I… I'm right here if you need me, okay boss?"

"You're a star, Carrol He said, sitting back and forcing himself into a relaxed smile as he came in. "ah, and there's my favourite mad gunman. So how did the High School reunion go? And please, please say you made friends, had fun, and didn't murder anyone."

"Meh, networking mostly Doc." Said the assassin, moving across the room and placing a slim metal briefcase under the psychiatrist's couch before sitting down. "Turns out this Ewe from my home ec. Class has a doctorate in horticulture and a truckload of student debts now, so I got her contact details."

"Is… is that relevant?" asked the Platypus, flicking open a notepad and getting out a new pen.

"It is to me doc." Said Doug Ramses, slit pupils blinking once. "It is to me."


	5. Christmas Special: part 1, let it Snow

**The Earning the badge Christmas special**

 **Part one: let it snow.**

*Digital radio alarm clicks on, time shown 0600*

ZBC Radio 1 **Bing Crosby:** _it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas_

Judy's paw hit the alarm, and she was up in seconds, and grinning.

 **Judy's day (the A plot).**

*Music continues as Judy's door kicks open, and she heads out in her police uniform and a Santa hat. Cut to Judy firing up the motor in Blinky, with tinsel covering the dash and steering wheel and some snowflake stickers on the windshield, and is still playing as Blinky pulls up to ZPD HQ as s few stray snowflakes hang in the air as she pushes in to the atrium*

 **Carrol singers:** _Hark! The herald angels (traditional)._

Bogo, standing in the centre of the room wearing a red Christmas scarf and Santa hat, glaring over a small folding metal music stand, glared and placed both hands on it.

"No no no! Project!" he snorted at the ZPD choir. "You need to project or no-one's going to hear you at the back! And Higgins, from the diagram! Now, from the top, One, two-"

There was a loud crash from behind him, and Bogo turned, groaned, and covered his eyes.

Clawhauser, embarrassed, tried to dis-entangle himself from the Christmas tree in the foyer.

"Clawhauser!"

"Sorry chief, I just….. there was this thing, caught my refection in a bauble for just a second and forgot myself and…. and… and… Ohhh… shiny!"

 ** _*Crash!*_**

"Spots! Seriously can you not? I just got Fangmeyer out of that! Harrumph, okay, where were we? Ahhh, yes, okay, from the top, one two three and-"

Judy hurried thought the atrium, the festive touches mingling with the usual barely controlled chaos of the station and the hoard of drunken holiday goes being booked in, and stopping to say high to several other officers as she made her way thought the station, she headed off to her desk on the open half-office area above the bullpen. Pausing only to grab a cookie and a glass of eggnog from the trestle table two off-duty officers had set up in the cafeteria. Ignoring the Hot gluehwein and hard Eggnog that the night shift were celebrating the end of their last shift before Christmas with, she made her way to her desk and had just logged on to her computer when Nick called.

"Hey, Carrots. Happy Holidays. You get my Christmas card? You on your train yet?"

"Not until two: I'm on the morning shift, and I've got to file my paperwork for the week before I head on back to Bunnyburrows. I'm just in the office to get my paperwork done, and then it's off to meet up with Sergeant Furschia to pick up that traditional Tundra town scarf for my mom, and then I'm free: Two days leave with the family, Christmas Eve and Christmas day with the folks. Nice card, by the way." She said, glancing up. Nick's card was next to her computer monitor, a disgustingly cute cartoon robin covered in glitter, at odds with the far more religious card from her mother, but it was still the thought that counted, and given she still didn't really know anyone in the city other than Nick and cops, she was touched.

"Jesus, how many night shifts did you have to pull to swing such a sweet leave arrangement? Half the cops on the force must have been fighting to get those two days off."

"Thirty-seven extra shifts, including Halloween and both Black Friday _and_ Freaky Friday." She said, rubbing tenderly at the still fresh bruises and referring to that last Friday before Christmas when most mammals in the city had their office Christmas parties, and which was notoriously the busiest day of the year for police and paramedics. Nick snorted.

"Yeah, saw the usual horrified moralising on the news channels as they did their usual opinion piece on what that sort of drunken festive brawling says about us as a culture. Saw you wrestling that naked honey-badger in the elf hat into the back of the riot wagon. Taking down the lord of misrule, were we? Ballsy move for a newcomer to the city."

"You guys have the weirdest Christmas traditions in this city." Complained Judy, wincing as she remembered that. Nick just laughed.

"You guys in the sticks were the ones that went all puritanical and wholesome about 1800, that's on you, it's not our fault we keep a few of the more raucous old-world yuletide traditions you guys forgot. Why do you think _'It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year'_ has a lyric about spooky ghost stories? Christmas used to be Halloween for adults, a time for some seriously dark messed-up tales around the fireside. Ye olde Dickensian nightmares, and then lots of booze on top of that. Maybe I can fill you in on a few of our debauched new-years traditions when you get back to the city?"

"Ha! The ZPD has enough of those as it is… umm, hey Nick, weird question. I don't know if you had anything planed, but I don't want you to feel lonely over the holidays, and, well, my folk's wouldn't mind if-"

"Christmas in the sticks with the Carrot munchers? Ugg, how dare you. Thanks but no thanks, I'll be fine, Carrots. Besides, I've got some errands to run, my first paycheck form Bogo just came through and I need to find a bank to cash it before they all close for Christmas. See you about, and give my regards to the family."

"Yeah, you too. Merry Christmas Nick, oh and thanks for the present." She said, half-jokingly as she glanced over and the comically huge pair of ear-muffs he'd got her after she'd complained she couldn't feel her ears one day in tundra town.

"Likewise."

Said Nick, touching the red silk scarf Judy had got him as his breath steamed in the chill air of the triangle. "I feel very dapper. Also warm. Although red and green? I feel like a Christmas tree."

On her end of the phonecall, Judy snorted laughter. "You know no one is actually forcing you to wear that awful Hawaiian top in the depths of winter, right?"

"Hey, I'll have you know that it's as practical as it's stylish. And besides, I'm wearing that awful Christmas sweater Clawhauser got me." Said Nick, carefully picking his way thought the freezing slush lining the street. It hadn't snowed for several days, and the forecast was for the big storm cell moving up the coast to just miss the city. "Also green, but aside from looking like the Grinch that stole Christmas, pretty warm and cosy. Wrap up tight, carrots, it's cold out, and it looks like the weather's on the turn. Take care, and don't miss your train. Merry Christmas Judy."

"You too Nick, Merry Christmas." Said Judy, hanging up. She checked her phone again, for the time. Not even eight yet. Plenty of time to finish her paperwork and then head off to meet up with Furschia for a quick coffee and pick up that last present, and then home for Christmas with the family. What could go wrong?

Radio plays: **Chris Rea;** _driving home for Christmas_

* * *

In any city above a certain size, there will be that one bar were cops choose to hang out. Usually somewhere as cheap as posable, and given that no off duty cop wants to see anything that might put them on duty again, they tend not to be the liveliest places . McSorley's was the most famous ZPD drinking den, to the point where it was so full of tourists hoping to see a traditional ZPD pub that actual cops often couldn't get in through the crowds. Precinct one only ever turned up there anymore on special, somber, occasions, like retirements or wakes. Afternoon's Restaurant, south of the CBD and on the intersection of two major transit routes was Precinct One's preferred den of inequity these days , mostly because it was clean, and quiet, and sold good beer cheaply and always had a big pot of free coffee on the go, and most importantly because it gave cops and fire department staff credit.

It was also close to the train station, So there was only ever going to be one place Furschia was going to meet up with Judy to give her the present.

The big shebear nodded curtly to Judy from her customary barstool as she walked in, not taking her eyes off the non-stop sports on the big screens behind the bar.

"Merry Christmas fluffbutt. _Kæstur hákarl?_ Homemade." asked Furschia, offering Judy a sealed Kilner jar half-filled with some greasy looking white cubes. The polar bear was wearing a very very cheap looking Santa costume, and had a tankard of beer taller than Judy on the bar in front of her, with some sort of akvavit chaser. It was eleven thirty in the morning.

"Huh?"

"Hákarl." Said Furschia glancing down. She quickly realized Judy had no idea what she was talking about.

"Fermented shark-meat." Explained the polar bear. "Traditional part of any proper midwinter feast, you game?"

"I'll pass." Said Judy, turning slightly green but Hopping up onto the stool next to the big bear and helping herself to a coffee. Furschia shrugged, flicked a lump of the stuff in the air, releasing a slight whiff of ammonia form the jar, and caught it in her mouth and chewed with every sign of enjoyment before reaching for her drink.

"Ahhhh, suit yourself, this, this is Christmas right here, _þorrablót_ too. Hey, Frank, another brennivín." She said, nocking back her chaser before turning to Judy and raising her huge beer glass in a toast. Judy grinned slightly, and chinked her coffee mug against it.

"Here's to another year of keeping skumbags of the street." Said Furschia.

"And a happy new year doing it all over again." said Judy, sipping her coffee. She noticed several night-shift cops form precinct two and three snoozing gently in the booths of the pub, mostly wearing silly costumes and she remembered that this pub never closed and it clicked. "Ahh, you were at the precinct two Christmas party here last night. I was wondering about the costume."

The bear grinned, cheerfully. "Hell, I trained half the cops in the ZPD, and served with the older half. I get invited to every precinct's Christmas party, 'caus if I don't I have a tendency to throw golden apples and cursed spinning wheels into the mix. And 'cause the different shifts stagger their parties to fit their shift patterns, if you know which precinct house is partying when, you can surf from one party to the next all day! I've been to three parties last night, and I've got two more this evening. The academy is out, I've not got anyone's Sargent's or detective exams to grade, and for once I'm not busy with the ZPD auxiliary units. This, this is the one time a year I'm completely, completely free. No responsibilities, no official duties, no worries. I plan to enjoy this one moment a year as much as I can. If I'm not drunk and very disorderly by lunch, something had gone very wrong."

She paused, and looked down into her drink for a moment. "Bin' drinking with some of the boys from my vice unit, back in the day. Gods, the things we saw… pimps and people traffickers and scumbags of every flavour. Poor working girls half covered in defensive wounds and out in the snow, it doesn't stop for the holidays, girl…" She shuddered, and took a sip of beer, "Sorry, my mind's wondering. You don't want to hear that sort of stuff. Time to enjoy what we've got and be jolly, and I plan to get so jolly I can't walk."

Said Furschia, handing over Judy's present and waving away the rabbit when she got out her wallet to pay for the scarf.

"Consider it a valedictorian's gift. Or a _glad-the-city-didn't-get-nighthowler'd_ payment, girl. You did good. Heading home?"

Judy nodded, checking the time. "Next train to BunnyBurrows. Last train out of town would have been cheaper, but I didn't want to risk it in case something went wrong and I missed the train, so I'm heading off early, with a three train buffer between me and the last train. Whatever happens, I'm not missing my train, not after all the overtime I pulled to get these two specific days off."

Furschia grinned, finished another akvavit and then toasted Judy with her beer again.

"Well said girl. You're heading home, and I'm letting my fur down at last, and nothing short of an official state of emergency can stop that. We're out of it. Here's to a clean getaway!" she said, as the music playing in the bar changed to _Let it snow._

"A clean getaway!" echoed Judy, raising her mug.

 _Clink!_

Furschia grinned, and then frowned, and turned back to her sports. "Hey, who turned off the hockey?"

"It's an emergency news bulletin," said Judy, ears drooping, "Hey, Frank, could you turn up the sound please? Thank you."

Frank turned up the sound, and Judy immediately wished that he hadn't

"- with the storm-cell merging with warm oceanic air, the _entire_ system had turned, north by north west, and is now heading directly for the city, predicted to make landfall in less than two hours. We go now to Susan down by biome wall one."

"Hi Stu: with the need to keep Sahara at at least forty Celsius, one hundred and four Fahrenheit, to protect certain vulnerable species, the biome wall here behind me is working overtime to keep the residents of our resident desert nice and toasty through this severe cold snap. But, as the system is a giant heat-pump, just like a domestic refrigerator, that means that in order to keep the sunny side up, Tundra Town has to turn _down_ the temperature. And with that heavy, wet ocean air hitting us from the south west and that cold front from the north mixing with the blanket of artificially cooled sub-zero air hovering over tundra town, we can expect heavy, if not record breaking snowfalls today-"

Judy and Furschia stared, open mouthed and aghast.

"How much snow does it take to shut down the city?" asked Judy, in tones of rising horror.

"In Tundra town? About eight feet. The rest of the city? About eight inches." They both watched the tv with horror

"So Susan, exactly how much snow can the good-mammals of Zootopian expect when the storm hits?"

Judy and Furschia watched. "less than eight, come on…." Muttered Judy "Less than eight inches!"

"Around four to seven inches, Stu-" said the TV.

Judy and Furschia sighed, relief coming off them in waves.

"-in the first ten minutes! We are talking about a total whiteout conditions, with at least two feet of snow falling in under an hour, four feet overnight and with drifts of six to eight feet in places. Smaller mammals, get yourselves under cover, because this will be taller than most buildings in Little Rodentia! It's going to be a big one folks! Stay indoors, stay calm, and do not, I repeat, _do not_ travel unless absolutely necessary."

Judy and Furschia looked to each other, and then, Judy standing on the barstool and Furschia on tip-toes, peered out the windows at the street. As soon as the news had broken, everyone with a car immediately tried to get out before the rush, and with seconds the street was bumper to bumper. This was a major intersection, and if it blocked, you'd have the entire city centre gridlocked in minutes.

"Talk about your white Christmas. Thank you Susan. So, with severe weather warnings in place for the city and for Darwin and Linnaeus counties, we go now to the Metrological office for- wait…. wait… News just in, and we have just heard from the mayor's office, acting mayor Swanson has just declared an official citywide state of emergency! Governor Noble is activating the national guard and consulting with Congressmammal Ysengrin about a possible state-wide state of emergency, and the TSA has just made an emergency announcement regarding the city's airports-"

"All units, all units." Blared Judy's shoulder mounted airwave coms set. "This is a citywide all units, all personnel to their emergency stations, return to your precincts and borough commands for emergency briefings. All leave is cancelled, I repeat, _all_ leave is cancelled." Droned Bogo.

"Ha-ha!" pointed Furschia, as Judy slammed her face into the bar. "So much for getting away clean fuzzbutt! Tough luck, rather you than me!"

"And all auxiliary and reserve units are activated, repeat, all auxiliary units are activated, reserve roster, _and_ the Academy staff."

"Oh come on!" yelled the big bear, indigently, before shrugging. "Meh, I'm drunk, he can't possibly mean me.

"And that means you Furschia, I need you to drag your rump out of Afternoon's and round up whatever's left of the night-shift from whatever various dives you've got then stashed in. Now."

"Oh come on! I'm not here I'm…" she grabbed the radio off Judy's shoulder. "I'm not here!" she yelled into it. "I've died, this is the ghost of Christmas present, over."

"I don't care, just get them together and stick them in the canteen until they can pass a breathalyser. Tails and toes, people, move it, this is a big one."

Judy and Furschia slumped on their barstools, groaning.

"Well, so much for getting away clean." Said Furschia at length.

* * *

 **Nick's day (the B plot).**

Nick wished Judy merry Christmas, and hung up the call, struggling to get his phone back into his pants pockets with the new sweater, which was a bit too long for him, getting in the way.

Cursing as he accidentally stepped of the curve and stepped hock-deep into a puddle of freezing slush, Nick bit back on the curse and tried to keep his festive good mood. He glanced up.

It was the middle of the day and it was already half-dark. Low winter sun was one thing, but those clouds overhead were purple, and bruise-dark, and it'd be dark as night before too long Nick hoped that the storm would miss them as predicted, but he'd been in a few severe winter storms in this city, and this looked like another one in the making. Shivering, and trying to ignore all the horror stories he'd heard growing up about the great blizzard of '88, he pressed on, hugging his scarf closer to him and checking that his paycheck was still secure in his pocket. His local bank had already closed early, for the holidays, and the bodega around the corner that offered a check cashing service charged 80 bucks a pop, and told him, squinting down over the counter at him, that he'd need three forms of ID because they'd never seen him around before and weren't about to trust a fox.

Nick had given them a good glare and was tempted to point out that if he was running a con he'd hardly be trying to cash a check from a ZPD account, but it was damn cold, and he wanted to get his money and be back home before it started snowing, so he'd left in a huff and was, reluctantly, high-tailing it down towards then next closest bank.

Shivering again, and really wishing he wasn't about to do this, Nick turned off the sidewalk and into the small pedestrian tunnel under the biome wall. He fluffed his fur up as the chill coming of the concrete hit him from all sides, and, bracing, he stepped out from the dark and into the shimmering refulgence of tundra town.

Tundra town in winter was always beautiful, and today was no exception, icicles bearding every building, the chains hanging off the guttering entombed in ice and and the steep, chalet-style rooves two foot thick with pure white snow, but the light was already fading as the storm pressed in, and it not even noon yet, and it was _damn_ cold. A bitter, biting cold that snuck in thought layers of fur and clothing, and while his claws _scrunched_ and squeaked on the hard-packed snow of the sidewalks, his poor wet paws felt half frozen already. It was not a day to dawdle.

 _Get in, get the check cashed, get home and microwave my Christmas dinner and curl up with some eggnog and a good book._ He thought. _And hopefully not spend too much time pining after a certain worryingly beautiful rabbit._ He added, bitterly. Picking up his pace, he pressed on into the cold.

Rounding the corner near the bank, his eyes down and focusing on not slipping on black ice and faceplanting, Nick noticed the tire-tracks in the snow first, mounting the kerbstone and crossing the sidewalk. The track's didn't show the marks of snow-chains, so maybe some tourist who didn't know how to drive in Tundra Town, he thought, until he saw the bank.

Nick looked up, pay check in hand, and groaned.

The bank hand a large, "closed for the holidays" sign in the window, but more than that, the entire west wall had been covered with cardboard, hiding the ATM's and the out-of-hours deposit box, and yellow hazard tape covered everything. The tire-track lead strait the centre of the west wall, and a cleared area in the snow in front of the bank hinted and recent activity. There was even an abandoned vehicle wheel , half covered with snow, lying in the drift up against the wall.

On top of the cardboard hiding the ATM's were two posters, one clearly improvised, normal printer paper, apologising for any inconvenience in the name of the bank staff, and the other was a generic ZPD poster telling anyone who had witnessed a crime to call the number below. A very, very cold and bored looking racoon in a rent-a-cop uniform was stamping his footpaws and hopping from foot to foot to try and stay warm, paws under armpits. He had a festive scarf on, and truly ridiculous set of pink fluffy earmuffs that clashed horribly with his uniform and made him look a fool. He also had a clipboard with "A1 security" stenciled on it, and a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. He did not look happy with his lot in life. In fact he looked half frozen to death.

Nick froze in place, and groaned. _seriously?_ He thought.

He walked a little closer, as I hoping to find that the bank was open if he looked harder. The racoon shivered, and nodded to him.

"hell of a day. Looks like snow."

"What happened to the bank?" asked Nick, aghast. The racoon snorted.

"Smash and grab, or at least, that's what they tired. Ram-raid: three rams in a stolen four-by-four hit the wall, hoping to punch a hole and get the cash from the ATM's. car bounced and the wall didn't break any, but the ATM's are out and they're getting n engineer out after the holidays to check for hidden structural damage. ATM's are out, but there's one at the mini-mall round the block. You need to make a deposit?"

Said the racoon, pulling out a ridiculous little festive pen from a pocket, which made Nick smile, it was so disarming, and brandishing his clipboard.

"Lot of late-night shops, bodegas and bars rely on the out of hours deposit box, especially this time of year, you don't want to have a register full of cash in an unguarded store over the Christmas break, do ya? Or walk home with that cash in your pockets, crime like it is. If you need to make a deposit, just tell me how much, and I'll write you out the receipt. There a slot in the briefcase." He said, nodding to the envelope in Nick's hand.

"Huh? Oh. No. I just came to get a check cashed." Said Nick.

"Oh, well, then sorry, you're all out of luck pal." Said the racoon, stamping to keep warm. "Happy Holidays." He said, shivering.

Nick pulled out his phone to check near buy banks on _zoogle maps,_ and noticed he had no signal. Odd, there was a tower nearby, he usually had full 4G on this street.

"Yeah, you too. " said Nick, putting his phone away and turning to leave. He felt the racoon, in his silly little earmuffs and his harmless, guileless smile watching him as he walked away, and heard him stamp and shuffle his feet, and Nick shivered, and hurried over to the bodega across the street. It was closed, but there was an old fashioned payphone bolted to the side. Cussing and sweating, Nick fumbled in his pants for a quarter, tucking his check away safely, and after a moment managed to get a dial tone on the payphone and call Judy, trying to ignore the music he could hear drifting down from a nearby window.

 _7 O'Clock News/Silent Night_ **: Simon and Garfunkel.**

It went to voicemail, but he spoke up anyway.

"Hey Carrots, it's the Grinch. I'm stood outside a bodega at…." He rattled of the address on the side of the phone. "121 evergreen. There's a guy outside the bank opposite, and it looks like he's running the old Frank Abagnale night deposit con: the guy's covered up the ATM's and night deposit box with tape and cardboard, and he's put in some fake tire-tracks with an old spare tire, nice touch that, but the tracks aren't perfectly parallel, and there no skid marks from breaking. I checked out the bank's opening times, it was going to be closed anyway today, for the holidays, it's not due to any damage."

Nick said, looking over his shoulder, before turning back to the phone. It was starting to snow, he noticed, heavily, and his visibility to the racoon just across the street, who waved, was rapidly diminishing. "He's made up a good reason why the night deposit box is out of order, and he's got himself a cheap security guards uniform and some props, particularly some to make himself look extra harmless, but he's just standing there and taking people's deposits and handing out worthless receipts. It's so cold out so no-one will want to stand there asking him suspicious questions. If he's good he'll have a customer support number too, so if people are suspicious they'll call it and get a reassuring sounding recording. If he's _very_ smart, he'll have a forwarding service to deflect them to a premium rate number. It's a good con, done well, and he looks like a pro. Very slick. Last shopping day before the holidays too, if he's lucky he could get dozens of shopkeepers and bar staff coming in to deposit their big day's takings, easily make ten grand in the one night. Racoon, a little shorter than me, wearing a blue and grey a1 security uniform and pink earmuffs, some scars around his muzzle so could be a tough customer. Just letting you know in case you wanted to send a squad car round, I'll try 9-11, but I thought I'd give you a bell first, in case you wanted to get your clearance rates up. Okay, merry Christmas… oh, and I can't get a cell signal, so he might have a phone jammer in that briefcase-"

Nick heard two clicks, one after the other.

The first was followed by the sound of the pay-phone spitting out his change, and the _buzz-buzz-buzz_ of the call disconnected tone. Nick glanced down. There was a delicate little racoon finger pressing down the cradle, ending the call.

The _second_ click was unmistakably a gun cocking.

* * *

 **The A plot again.**

Judy left Furschia happily engulfing all the food and booze on the trestle table outside the cafeteria, having rounded up most of the night shift and dragged them in with a mix of threats and bribes of free food from the caf', and while they drank coffee and tried to sober up, Judy went up to the bullpen briefing room.

When she pushed the door open the combination of the Christmas music and the smell nearly floored her.

 **the Pogues and Kirsty McColl:** _fairy-tale of zootopia._

The snow had just started as she and Furschia got in to precinct one, wet and sleety and first, a small wet flurry, a harbinger of the big storm now bearing down on the city with less than an hour before it his, and she'd got soaked thought, like everyone else. Wet wolf was a strong enough smell, but add wet lion, bear and god knows how many other species into the mix, some still in the heavy woollen dress-blues from the choir, and some dragged in after already having spent twelve-hour shifts of in heavy body armour being bled on and vomited over by the good taxpaying members of the public, and cram them all in one small room with snow still getting trampled into the carpet, and wet wolf didn't even get look in.

Wrinkling her nose, Judy pushed through the crowd, nodding greeting here and there and briefly chatting with Francine and Fangmayer, she pushed thought to the front. The room was patched, the desk moved out to make room, so in order to see she just ducked between legs until she forced her way out to the small clearing at the front of the room, near Bogo's lectern

Bogo, snow melting into his Santa hat, did not look a happy bunny, in Judy's expert opinion.

"All right! All right! Settle down! Now, I know a lot of you were looking forward to either leave, or the precinct one party, and I for one was hoping to head back to my family, but all that is, as of this instant, cancelled!"

A collective groan went up from the assembled mammals, and Bogo snorted angrily, and slammed a fist down to re-establish order.

"Yes yes! Laugh it up! It's going to be a pain, and we'll all hate it, but here's the thing: the biggest storm system of the year is about to hit the city, and we're looking at two to four feet of snow in a few short hours, with a sudden temperature drop when that wet coastal air spreads the blanket of cold over Tundra Town out over the entire city! It will be perfect white out conditions, and several of the biomes will struggle to cope.

"So, three priorities,

"One, vulnerable biomes, Sahara should be safe enough, protected by the heat from biome wall one, but they're not the only ones, so get extra units to Rainforest, and cancel any scheduled artificial rains but _don't_ shut of the system: is the water freezes in the pipes, it's burst the mains and we'll have hell to pay from the city workers. And as for Little rodentia, get a team down there with shovels and leaf-blowers to stop low-lying buildings getting buried and for pity's sakes, this time make sure you check each shovel of snow and each use of the leaf-blower to make sure you're not sending mice flying all over the place, we don't need a repeat of last time! Fangmeyer, Snarlov, Higgins, take your units to Rainforest, and leases with the local precincts there. DelGatto, grab the precinct two night shift, get some shovels and walk them out there to Little rodentia, that should sober them up. No, I'm not sending you Francine, not after last time, mice freak her out, and she can't fit thought the streets.

"Two, keeping the transit routes open for the emergency services: fire and ambulance. We need all parking and traffic officers to head over to transit HQ, and meet up with the snow-ploughs and gritters, the ploughs will run double shifts and we want police escorts for them, nothing must stop them, _nothing!_ We need to keep main arterial routes open for the fire department and paramedics! We also need to get extra units to train stations, sky-trams, and the airports to deal with crowd control: the white out is closing roads, rail-roads, and airports, and we have a lot of tired, frightened angry mammals who are just about to find out there spending Christmas even in an airport waiting room, and they'll be as angry about missing their Christmas as you are about missing yours. Now, we have a friend from the federal government who will be controlling the situation at the airports and integrating you with the TSA. Special agent, if you woul- _no smoking!"_

"On a day like today, smoking is the _least_ of our problems _hombre._ " Said the skunk, pushing to the frond of the crowd, and nodding once to Judy, arm crooked in her usual manner as he smoked.

"Allright, listen up knuckle-heads, my name is Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez and I was about to head off on a flight to some exotic tropical beach-resort when suddenly every plane in or out of this gods-forsaken city was cancelled, so I'm now looking at spending the holidays sleeping on the futon in my mom's spare room surrounded by screaming nephews and nieces while mom and various maiden aunts wonder why I haven't shot out a dozen kids yet, so I'm in just as bad a mood as you guys are. Okay, who here has experience in riot control?"

ZG looked up as a dozen or so paws were raised, and nodded, grinding out her cigarette on the lectern to Bogo's clear horror and disgust.

"Okay, well we don't want a riot, and if you're preparing for one then that's when people stop being on point when it comes to _preventing_ one, so none of you are coming with me. If you just raised your paws, you're babysitting snow-ploughs. That way the cops at the airport will be too scared to start a riot, and if one does kick off, we'll have the officers who can deal with it well rested and mobile: we don't have enough of you to cover all three airport, so stay mobile and with the snow-ploughs for when it all does hit the fan. Anyone here have family liaison or sensitivity training? You can put your paws up, it's not a trick this time."

ZG looked at the officers who raised their paws, her eyes lingering of Judy, who unfortunately kept hers down: She'd only just got six months on the force, and wouldn't qualify for extra training until her one year review, and not for assignment to a specialist unit until she finished her 18 month probation period. She was a good beat cop, but so far, that was it as far as her training went.

"Okay." Said ZG, clearly disappointed that Judy didn't have the training she wanted. "You all on my left, Darwin airport, laisse with agent Johnson. You on the right? You drew the short straw, Linnaeus airport, working under _special_ agent Johnson, no relation. You in the middle? _Very_ short straw, you're at metro airport with me, and I'm in a foul mood. We have 1.5 million mammals using the airport over the four days before Christmas, and there's the wrong side of sixty-thousand there now and every flight is about to get cancelled, including mine, so get ready for a hard shift and some very unhappy mammals." She turned to Bogo. "We'd better stop by the national guard barracks and pick up some of their disaster relief gear: bottled water, blankets, get a field kitchen set up. Oh, and some porta-potties. We're going to have a lot of mammals stick there overnight and were going to have to cater for their needs. Yes?"

Asked ZG, as Clawhauser, still covered in tinsel and pine-needles, raised a paw.

"Umm, I take it this means the precinct one Christmas party is cancelled?"

"Spots! Time and a place!" said Bogo, but Clawhauser pressed on.

"Well, if it is cancelled, then we've got food and drink for nearly two-hundred officers and guests sitting here going wanting. Eggnog, hard and soft, gluhwein, at least, we might still have some if Furschia hasn't got to it, cookies, cobb salads, sandwiches, brownies, mince pies… We've got a bunch of food _and_ decorations we could pack up and move down easily enough. That should go some way to keeping up the moral of the poor mammals stuck at the airport."

"We could bring the choir too." Said Francine. "Anything to keep the crowd occupied and defuse tension."

"I like it, get on it." Said ZG. She then paused, staring out over the crowded room. "Well? What are you all waiting for _? Los Santos Innocentes?_ Shake a tail!" she said, stalking out of the room. "we want to get officers there and in place before the roads choke up, and I need to get back to the airport before some moron at the TSA does something more than ordinarily stupid. Oh, and we need to get some people down to terminal zero, we're got a foreign military plane coming in bringing someone for trial, and I don't want any incidents regarding-" The door swung shut after the skunk, cutting of the noise. Various officers started to file out, and Judy thought she heard Clawhauser curse suddenly, and Bogo re-claimed his lectern.

"Priority three: vulnerable persons." He said, turning his back on the room, and grabbing a marker and writing on the whiteboard behind him, the names of vulnerable groups in big letters "Homeless, alcoholics, addicts, rough sleepers, the elderly, marsupials, sloths, hyrax: any species that has trouble regulating it's body temperature. The priority is rough sleepers." He said, stepping back from the whiteboard and glaring.

"Every damn time this happens, we get a bigger death toll than I would like. Down-and-outs in doorways and storm drains mostly, but there'll be the fools and drunks, sex-workers trying to turn one last trick to pay the bills, and stubborn old-timers who think that walking down to the local bodega for cigarettes in a full white-out is a good idea, and we keep finding bodies weeks afterwards when the snowdrifts finally melt, not to mention the heart attacks form elderly mammals trying to snow-shovel drifts taller than themselves the next day. Well, not this time. Cursing round the city the day after a big blizzard looking of bodies is the worst job in the ZPD, so to avoid it, we're going to bust a gut and get everyone we can under cover, _now._ "

He turned back to the room. "Well, you all know the usual spots rough sleepers hang from your foot patrols, and you know the addresses of our regular drink and drug problems, hop to it: get everyone you can find off the streets and under cover, you've got the addresses of the local homeless shelters, and they've opened school gyms to rough sleepers for the holidays across the city. Get everyone you find in the warm, willingly if you can, if not use public order regulations to make an arrest, stick them in a nice warm cell and we'll release them without charge when the weather breaks. Pick up your usual neighborhood drunks and tramps first, and then in patrol cars and check the usual likely spots, doorways in shopping areas, storm-drains, under bridges, park benches, grab any stragglers you spot, and if you see anyone, _anyone_ out walking in the white-out pull up to them and tell them to get under cover, offer a lift home if you have to, if they look elderly, drunk or confused, don't take no for an answer. Got it?"

"Got it chief!" chorused Judy along with the rest of the room.

Bogo nodded, and grabbed his own foul-weather hi-vi parker from the coat-hook in the corner. "Well? Jump too it. Oh, officer Hopps? I have a special assignment for you."

"Sir?" asked Judy. Boga paused, and looked down at Judy as the rest of the officers filed out of the room, giving her a quick up-and-down once over.

"How tall are you officer?" Bogo asked, and Judy felt her heart sink. She knew where this was going.

"Two foot eleven, sir. Less my ears."

"Less your ears." Repeated Bogo, foot tapping. "Your ZPD medical chart gives your skeletal height as 73 centimetres, two foot four inches. We're expecting two foot of snow in the first hour of this storm."

"Sir, I'm a rabbit, I've got very large feet for my weight, it spreads my weight."

"I don't care, officer. I'm not sending someone out on foot patrol in this when there's a good chance we could literally loose them in a snow-drift. Besides, you busted a gut on extra shits to get this leave, I recall."

"Sir, I can help. I'm an officer, I should be doing something-"

Bogo waved a hand. "All right, all right. As it happens, there is something you can do." He said, grumpily. "One job, and then I suggest you head to the station."

"Sir?"

"The _train_ station. No one works Black Friday and Freaky Friday and doesn't get Christmas off, not in my precinct. One job, and then you're home free."

Despite herself, Judy grinned. "I won't let you down chief! What is it, vulnerable person?"

"You could say that." Muttered Bogo. Judy nodded, glad it was real police work and not some make-up busy-work job. "Getting someone home safe?" she asked.

"Exactly."

"Who is it? A drunk?" she asked, sympathetically.

"By now? Most likely. And disorderly to boot. Frankly, this has proven dangerous in the past, and normally I'd get one of the boys form the riot squad to do this, but they're all busy, and I think you could handle this despite the risks. You game, officer?"

"Always. Ready for action, no matter the risk!" said Judy, radiating keen, alert pride.

"Atta girl." Said Bogo, pushing open the office door. "Because this is going to get ugly." He said, nodding down into the atrium.

Furschia had grabbed all the gluehwein for the Precinct One party and piled it up in one corner of the trestle table and had both of her hugely muscled arms around it, claws dug into the table top and was leaning with her chin on the table and growling at anyone who came close, but also grabbing sandwiches and tossing them into her mouth every few seconds, sending crumbs everywhere, while Clawhauser and DelGatto circled her cautiously, batons out.

"Get a net from the weapons locker…" said Clawhauser.

"We can't, she's got the keys."

"Bring it on if you can, kitty cat." Growled the big bear, drunkenly. Before grinning "Heheh, hey, you're kinda cute You know?" Bogo facepalmed.

"I said to keep her away from the free wine! You know what she's like if you let her get to it!" he yelled over the balcony.

"Sorry chief, after last year she was prepared."

"Prepared, other than her epic pre-gaming, how can you prepare?" yelled Bogo.

"She brought a ball of yarn, chief, I got distracted!" said Clawhauser. Bogo swore.

"Let me try something. SERGEANT!" yelled Bogo. "Atten-SHUN!"

Furschia snapped upright without any higher bran functions getting in the way of her parade-ground perfect movements. It lasted for about a second, before she looked around, trying to see where the shout had come from. After a moment she glanced up, swaying slightly, and spotted the chief.

Furschia grinned, and raised a gluehwein glass in a toast, still in her ridiculous full Santa costume. "Hey, chief, I saved you a drink, you save a dance for me, hot stuff?" she yelled, leaning on the corner of the trestle table and making the eyes at Bogo.

The table collapsed under the the she-bears considerable weight, sending gluehwein and cookies flying as the big bear sprawled, legs flailing, and one gigantic foot sending DelGatto reeling as she caught him in the nose.

Bogo groaned, as Clawhauser tried unsuccessfully to salvage some of the cobb salad Furschia had landed in.

Bogo snapped his fingers, and Clawhauser started riffling the pockets of the Santa costume, before throwing Bogo as set of car keys as Furschia snored to herself. Bogo caught the keys one handed, and snorted as she dropped them into Judy's paws.

"She does this every year. Get her home and put her to bed. Take her truck. If you survive that, you can call it a night. Oh, you'll need this. " he said, fishing around in a pocket. He came out with small set of bells.

"Um… sleigh bells? Very festive sir, but how does this help?"

"Oh, Furschia can get a bit… angry… part way thought her drinking. Those are bear bells: You don't want to sneak up on her when she's like this. And _this_ is a Tiletamine auto-injector, calibrated for her body weight and the assumption she's fighting drunk. If things get _really_ intense stab her in the neck and _run._ After last year and the thing with the pasta bake we're not taking any chances with her. Francine still has flashbacks. Good luck."

"Ummm, thank you? Oh but sir where does she…"

Judy looked up. Bogo was already walking out the door. "… live?"

Clawhauser waddled up. "Apartment 221b, east tower, Perkele Plaza, Tundra town." He said, rubbing at his back, where he'd tried to lift the big bear. "I'll help you get her into her car."

* * *

Furschia's "car" turned out to be an extremely battered and rust-spotted pastel-blue pick-up truck with an oversized two-seat cab re-built to incorporate the size and mass of a polar-bear behind the wheel, illegal snow tires, a discreet ZPD badge on the dash, and a bumper-sticker that read. "I support our troops… but the marines can go fu-" and the the rest of the sticker was muddy up to "-themselves." which shocked and confused Judy at first.

"Her twin brother is in the marines." Said Clawhauser, dragging the passed out bear by her feet out of the elevator and across the underground parking lot. "She wanted to join too, but back in the 90's females couldn't, and she's still _really_ sore about it." He told her, pulling oven the passenger side door, which was a non-matching and red, and forcing Furschia in with not inconsiderable swearing.

"Wazf?" muttered Furschia, waking up. She blinked blearily at Clawhauser. "Oh gods Spots, when did you get so _fat?_ " she asked, as Judy tried to ribbit-handle her huge clawed feet into a footwall clocked with old parking ticket stubs and fast-food wrappers. "Ahh well, just more cushion for the pushin'… hey, cool!" Furschia said as they slammed the door, popping open the glove compartment in the process. The bear glanced down into the glove compartment, an her face lit up."Hey Judy, your truck has snacks in exactly the same place as mine!" she said, pulling out a slim-jim. "How cool is that?"

"Pretty cool." Muttered Judy, feeling anything but as she raised the seat up high enough to see over the dash, and had to go thought the indignity of adding the ZPD issue "helping toes" peddle extenders so that she could actually operate the clutch and break.

Judy became aware of the overwhelming presence of the bear leaning in, both the light blocked out and a faint smell of spiced wine and oily fur. She glanced up. Furschia was chewing loudly, and waving the slim-jim at her.

"Salmon jerky? Maple and honey glaze?" she said, and Judy recoiled at the fishy smell.

"I'll pass Sarge, thanks." She adjusted the mirror, and Clawhauser shuffled back nervously.

"You sure you're okay Hopps?" he asked. "She can be a bit of a handful…"

 _Pring! Pring!_ Furschia was drunkenly giggling, and pawing at the bear-bells form where Judy had hung them on the rear-view. "Hehehe, _Ain't no doubt about it we were doubly blessed  
'Cause we were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed!" _ she started to sing, drunkenly. She had a remarkably good voice, closer to Baritone than Contralto if Judy was being brutally honest, but good.

Furschia paused for a moment, and the turned to Judy, looking crestfallen.

"I've forgotten the rest of the song." She said, sadly. Before starting again, tuning the radio until she found a song she could sing along to.

 **Santa Where's Me Bike:** _Kevin Bloody Wilson._

"I'll be fine." She said, setting her jaw grimly and starting the truck, as Furschia started to karaoke enthusiastically into her slim-jim. "What's the worst that can happen?"

"Wo-Hoo! Christmas road trip." Yelled Furschia, hanging out of the window, as they drove up the out-ramp and into the first flakes of the snowstorm "Party time! _Urp!_ uggg…. I don't feel so good, I want to stop for Ice _creeeeeeem!"_

Clawhauser watched as the truck disappeared into the swirling snow. It was as dark as night now, from the stormclouds, purple and grim. It was really starting to come down now, as the rabbit and drunken polar bear disappeared into the gloom.

Clawhauser considered this for a moment. "Yeah…. She _defiantly_ going to die."

* * *

 _Flick!_ _Flick!_ _Flick!_

Even with the wipers going full speed, and the lights dipped in the approved manner, and the snow tires, and a freshly gritted road, it was some of the worst driving conditions Judy had ever seen, and the flickering movement of the snowflakes was making her feel motion sick, not helped by the cabs heater blowing hot, stale air in her face, and not to be out done, Furschia blowing booze-fumes and fish in her face with every breath and she snored into Judy's fur, almost crushing her and repeatedly blocking her view of the road as Judy had to keep fighting off chunks of bear that intruded other side of the car and blocked her view, threatening to bury her in fur and Santa-costume that smelt of bear, booze and cigar smoke.

 _It's a miracle we don't crash._ Thought Judy, slapping away a paw the size of her body as it flopped in to her lap, clutching and more fish-jerky.

 _At a full two miles per hour._ She thought half-amused, half grim. _You can't go faster than that in these conditions. At this rate this little babysitting job will take so long it'll be a miracle if I finish in time to make my train._

 _Flick! Flick! Flick!_

The music wasn't helping that much either.

 **Oi to The World:** _The Vandals._

Judy tried to sneak a paw past Furschia to switch off the radio, and got growled at for her troubles, despite there being no other signs of consciousness.

"Oh come on. You're awake?"

"Not for much longer if I can help it." Muttered the big bear, pulling a hip-flask the size of Judy out from her Santa costume, and toasting her. "Merry Christmas, sweetness."

"Oh for goodness sakes!" said Judy, turning to the bear and glaring. "Haven't you dunk enough already? I understand that this is the one time a year you get to let loose, but seriously, this is too mu-"

 _"Watch the road Fluffbutt! Judy, left! Left!"_

Judy snapped her head back, and was already turning the wheel left before she even saw the figure, almost invisible in the snow. She slammed Into the breaks, and felt the car start to skid and fishtail, even at slow speeds this was skating-rink conditions. She remembered her training, and compensated well, but it was an unfamiliar vehicle, heavily laden with 600 pounds of bear, and driven on ice, and she didn't quite avoid clipping the figure with the back of the fishtailing truck, sending them sprawling in the snow, and dropping the bundle they were carrying, before the truck slid off the road and gently bumped into a mail-box and stopped.

 _Flick! Flick! Flick!_ Judy and Furschia sat there for a moment, staring dead ahead. After a moment Furschia took a deep pull on the flack, and Judy slapped it out of her paw, and booted open the door to help.

The cold cut her like a knife, the hot damp air form the cab turning to vapour instantly, and she dropped almost her on height before ending up waist deep in snow. _And it's only been snowing half an hour!_ She thought, surging thought the snow towards the downed figure. _Oh god, I hit someone! Okay, standard first aid protocols ,and get a name and ID for the records and…_

 _Oh god, I hit someone!_ Thought Judy the person.

She raced forwards, struggling thought the snow, her feet freeing, but pushing on none-the-less. The downed figure was a reindeer, struggling to rise, and cradling the buddle they were carrying. Female, young, not properly dressed for the weather: Mini-skirt and tee.

 _No purse. No tote. No bag. No pockets in a mini-skirt like that._ Thought Judy the cop. _No coat or sweater, no hoodie. What's on with her out in this dressed like that? Forget freezing to death, what teenager goes out without anywhere to put a phone?_

Judy ran forwards to help, but she also put one paw on the baton folded in her belt.

"Hey!" she yelled, surprised she could still speak in this eye-stinging, throat tightening cold. "Are you okay?"

The deer looked up. She was younger than Judy had first thought. Fifteen, sixteen. Antlerless, And very afraid. She took one look and Judy's uniform, and bolted.

Judy was after her like a flash. There was no thought involved. Birds flew, fish swam, police chased you if you ran. Such was life.

Judy out-accelerated the deer, but she was soon handicapped by the snow, whereas a reindeer was far, far better adapted to run through foot-deep snow and soon outpaced her, she didn't know why the deer was running form her, or why she was chasing, but the first rule of policing was you caught them first and worked that out after.

The deer looked over her shoulder, fearful, and as she did slipped on some ice, sending her bundle spinning off into the snow. She yelped in pain, as Judy closed on her, glancing once from the bundle to Judy, who had drawn her baton, she deer panicked, and ran, leaping over a high fence and into an alleyway. Judy, unable to get any traction on the snow, slid into the base of the fence rather than jumping it, rattling the chain-link.

Pausing for a second, the Deer and Judy stared at each other, Judy confused and the deer terrified, before the deer bolted down a side alley.

Judy snorted, and stamped a food unhappily, before heading back to the car. On the way back, she detoured to check out the bundle. She was suspecting drugs, given that the girl had ran. Or that was what she thought until she saw the bloodstains on the cloth.

Judy started to run to it.

When she was still a foot from it, the bundle or rags lying in the snow moved.

Hesitating for only a second, Judy reached out with the baton, and moved the rags aside.

The Reindeer calf inside shivered, and made a strange mewling noise, it couldn't have been more than a few hours old.

Judy hops stared at the babe, as the worst storm of the century broke around her and the car radio blared.

 **Let Me Sleep – It's Christmas Time:** _Pearl Jam_

"Oh sweet cheese and crackers…" she muttered. "What have I gotten myself into?" Judy asked.

 **To be continued.**


	6. part 2: In the bleak midwinter

**Earning the badge Christmas special: Part 2; In the bleak mid-winter**

 ***Content warming: this is an M rated crime Fic, and in this particular case relates to abandoned infants and harmed minors.***

It was the Night before Christmas, and all though Zootopia, several million mammals were stirring.

 _Including one small and very cold baby Reindeer._ Thought Judy, as the little bundle wiggled and mewled to itself. Judy snatched up the bundle quickly, and ran, wading rapidly through the snow. She was shocked just how fast the snow was going down, and how little visibility she had: she couldn't have been more than 10 meters from the truck, and all she could see was a faint glare of headlight through the snow. At least, she'd _thought_ it was only a few meters. Forty foot, at most. In this flat while light and swirling flakes, all she could see was her own tracks, and shivering and clutching the bundle to her, cussing herself for her height and weight as the snow was half as tall as her and the calf must have weight near as much as she did, he shivered, ears down, and pressed on. After an apparent eternity, shivering and with her tears freezing on her cheeks and snow stuck in places she didn't even know she _had_ , she made it to the car.

Furschia lay flat across both of the seats of the truck, swigging from the hip flask she had salvaged from the sea of old Bug-Burger wrappers in the footwall, and humming along happily to the radio and nodding off when the door swung open.

 **The Darkness:** _Christmas Time (Don't Let The Bells End)._

The Big she-bear shot up instantly. "I don't have keys!" she yelled. "I'm in the passenger seat and I don't have keys, I'm not in charge of a vehicle Officer! Don't breathalyser me!"

"How… are… you… the only mammal in the _city_ … who _doesn't_ mistake me for a meter maid?"

She looked sideways. "Oh, it's you. Drunk or sober, I know my cops." said the bear, before glancing down, once. Judy looked half frozen, shivering, snow sticking into her fur and uniform and was clinging on to a-

The bear's eyes bulged, drunkenly. "What. The. _Hell_?" The bear reached down and grabbed up both Judy and the calf and pulled them into the cab of the pickup, slamming the door. Before Judy could move she was wedged into a tight bear-hug. With a face full of warm, oily fur and only vaguely aware through the little she could feel between loss of circulation from cold and near-terminal constriction, she heard Furschia flick the heater into high gear, and once she was pretty sure she was going to get crushed to death and had just started to accept it and wonder how her parents would take the news that she'd died in another woman's armpit, the bear dropped her unceremoniously back into the driver's side seat, holding onto the bundle of rag's and fur and hugging it close to the downy fur of her chest, chin resting on top of the babe and leaning in, to hold it closer to the heater. Furschia took off her comically oversized Santa hat, and placed the baby in it like a bassinet.

 ***Camera angle switches to a through the windshield, front-on view of Furschia and Judy.***

"So, either you had the world's fastest and weirdest pregnancy, sweetness, in which case kudos you kinky little broodmare, or more likely you found this little Moses in the snowy bulrushes." She said, re-tucking the baby into the warm little crook between her folded arms, chin and chest.

"Please don't say our hit-and-run carrying… him?" said Furschia, quickly checking the calf with a sniff to confirm its sex.

"Carrying him and dropped him, ran too." Judy said, checking her airwave set. "Officer Hopps to control, badge number 2-2-6-7-8, come in? Control, badge number 2-2-6-7-8, come in?"

The com's set crackled, and hissed. Judy groaned. The storm seemed to be interfering with the signal. The truck, being Furschia's personal vehicle, didn't have the radio boosters, an airwave charger, or any com's equipment at all other than a phone charger plugged into the cigarette lighter on the dash. Judy checked the glove compartment. A dash-mounted, car-cigarette-lighter-powered flashing blue light fell out into the footwell, along with about Judy's own weight in Jerky, chewing gum, and coupons, but there was no spare radio, or any way of boosting the signal. Judy raised an eyebrow at Furschia as she picked up, with both paws, a knuckle-duster about as large as she was, wrapped neatly and fixed with a festive bow.

"My brother. Last Christmas I broke his jaw, least I could do was give him the change to repay the favour." She said, a tad guiltily. "What? Like you've never had a fight at Christmas diner Fluffbutt."

Judy laughed, grimly. "Ahahaha, I, for one, don't carry around offensive weapons designed to hurt my friends and loved ones!"

"So the bear-be-gone strength pepper spray on your belt is, what? A fashion statement?" asked Furschia, sardonically. "And the auto-injector?"

Judy had the good grace to wince. "Bogo's idea. You are a _horrible_ drunk. Besides, you taught me to always carry a more powerful weapon than the one you need, just in case."

The bear snorted, amused. She dipped a claw in her hip-flask, and tried to drip-feed it to the baby. "You didn't listen. _Grizzly_ strength? Love-in-a-canoe stuff. My brennivín stings more than that. I'm a polar bear, sweetness, we've evolved for _wind_ that hurts more than that stuff. If it's minus fifty outside you'd not notice pepper-spray that weak."

"Truly?" asked Judy, shifting guiltily. She didn't thing the bear had seem the spray-can. "It's useless?"

Furschia shrugged. "Far from it: you piss-off a polar bear, could always spray yourself in the face."

"Why, for the love of Frith?"

"That way you don't have to watch as you're mauled to death." Said the bear, cheerfully, as he played with the calf. "We're godless, unfeeling killing machines… coochie-coochie coo! Aww, bless!" Judy moved to touch the calf, and the she-bear growled, instinctively, and covered the calf with her chin, hugging it closer. Judy recoiled, and Furschia paused, embraced.

"Sorry Hopps… get clingy when I'm drunk. So our young mother? You kill her? If so, when the cops ask, you were the driver."

"I _was_ the driver, and we _are_ the cops. And no, she's fine. Well, she's well enough have hopped the fence and done a runner, so she can't be too badly hurt... could she?"

Furschia paused, rubbing a thumb over the blood-stained rags wrapped around the calf. She sniffed at it again, suspiciously.

"Well, no birth is pleasant, but the blood's not arterial and the mother doesn't smell haemophiliac, but he's _hours_ old. I'd not want to run this soon after a birth. You sure she got away clean?"

Judy and the Sergeant paused, looking at each other, and then both of them stared out of the windscreen. It was _really_ starting to snow out there.

"Can, can we leave the baby alone to-" there was a brief flurry of wind. Judy looked sideways. The bear was gone, and the calf propped up on the dash, by the heater. "-check?" she finished. Judy panicked, checked on the calf, who was sleeping peacefully, pulled on a hi-vi parka, and hurried out after the bear, cussing as she dropped into snow that went all the way up to her diaphragm. After a few moments of surging through snow, she found the cleared path through the snow she'd made last time she chased after the deer. It was easier to follow the partly cleared path, and Furschia's bright red Santa costume was at least visible through the snow.

Judy shivered, as the bear paused at the spot here Judy had hit the deer, and then grunted and pressed on to the spot by the chain-link fence where the deer had jumped. At least the wind had dropped for a moment: the snow was going down fast, but at least they could talk.

"How did you know this is where she ran? Didn't think you saw me chase her."

"Didn't. Only two sets of tracks, snow's coming fast and drowning scents, but I still know yours, and Reindeer have scent glands between their toes. Plus she's bleeding: I _am_ a polar bear, those wolfs have nothing on me. I've a nose like a wolf pack." She said, swaying slightly as she sobered up ."And the rest of my face ain't great either." She joked. Judy noticed with envy that bear was standing _on_ the snow, rather than sinking in it. _Frithaes! She's got bigger feet for her weight than I have. Still, at least I've got some fur on my soles, I'd hate to have pads like a fox in this snow._ She thought.

The bear snuffed around the snow a bit more. "Trial goes cold here. Too much snow too damn fast. Geri and Freki couldn't track thought this muck. Well good news is your baby-momma ain't bleeding to death from either the birth or your driving."

"Bad news?" said Judy, paws under her armpits, shivering. She wondered who Geri and Freki were. _Officer's I've not met?_ She mused.

Furschia nodded to the barbed wire topping the fence, leaning down to eye it up.

"You got your Crime-scene kit?" asked the bear.

"Always." Said Judy. "Why?"

The sergeant nodded. "Your Festive Reindeer Jumper caught herself. Fabric and blood on the wire."

"For real?" asked Judy. They were seldom _that_ lucky with evidence.

"Looks like it. You got a cotton swab other than the one growing out of ya butt?"

"There's a DNA swab in the kit." Said Judy, pulling out a set of tweezers and an evidence bag. "Do you mind?" she said, offering them to the bear. The fence was eight foot tall, _way_ out of her reach but about Furschia's throat height.

The bear looked down, questioningly. "And if I, as a police academy faculty member asked you about the chain of evidence, and the effect on any possible legal proceedings, of letting a clearly drunk _former_ cop handle material evidence, what would you say?"

"I'd say I'd just opened the evidence to exclusion on appeal, if not from the offset by letting a civilian handle it." Said Judy, groaning. She put one footpaw up on the chain link, and grabbed in with both paws. "So we do it the hard way. Little help?"

"Sure, you want a boost, or should I just pick you up?"

Judy set her jaw, grimly. She didn't like being picked up like some toddler by larger mammals, and you'd be surprised just how _often_ it happens, without people even asking permission. Other officers had been known to pick up her chair and move it with her on it if she was on their way, and she _hated_ it. It was an insult to her dignity as an officer.

 _That said…_ it was a tall fence.

Judy glanced over. Drunk as she was, the bear seemed to get a read on what she was thinking.

"I _could_ pick you up like a potato, but if you like I'll put my palm flat and you can stand on it and raise you up. Is that okay?"

"How's your hand? Steady?" asked Judy, shivering. She didn't want to leave the baby for too long.

The bear nodded, and held out a huge paw. Judy was impressed despite herself.

"Rock steady." Said Judy. Furschia grinned.

"Yeah, but this is the hand I shoot with." She said, flapping and flopping the other paw around comically. Judy cocked her head, confused.

"Blazing saddles." Said the bear, as if that explained it. A moment later she frowned, as if she'd tasted something bad.

"You haven't seen Blazing Saddles? Gods, when did everyone become so _young?_ " she complained, putting and hand down on the snow, palm up.

Judy Hopped up onto the paw, noting that like her the polar bear didn't have pads, but a thick thatch of coarse warm fur. Furschia lifted her up surprisingly gently, and was as stable as she'd hoped.

"So, you've sobered up fast." said Judy, as she worked.

"That's a lie and you know it. Only time can sober someone up. The sudden shock from the car accident and the cold have made me a more _alert_ drunk, but that's it sweetness. I'm still pretty tipsy."

"Super: I'm so glad you told me that only after I was balancing on your palm over barbed wire." Said Judy, as she shivered and worked.

Judy pulled out her phone, and holding out a business-card sized black-and-white tag for a scale, she snapped a few shots of the torn scrap of cloth in-situ and tagged the GPS coordinates. Only then did she get the tweezer and evidence bag out again and, wobbling slightly as Furschia shuffled her feet, carefully pealed the blooded cloth back from the wire and bagged it. She pulled out a sealed swab, used for DNA conformation of suspects ID, and swabbed the blood too. It wasn't as good a job as a fully trained scene-of-crime officer would do, but it should suffice for a simple abandoned infant case.

Shivering, Judy singled for Furschia to let her down again. Dropping down to the snow with a _scrunch!_ Judy shuddered as the cold hit her afresh and the snow shot up inside of her parker, but she moved quickly. She wanted to get back to the warmth of the car, more to check that the calf was okay and to write up the labels on the evidence than for it's own sakes.

 _Slam!_ Getting back into the cab of the truck and slamming the door, Judy checked the calf over again. He seemed okay, she guessed? _Oh god, I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing with babies. At least Furschia seems to have an idea what she's doing…._

Judy paused, and then looked at the empty seat next to her. "-aaand she's gone!"

Judy stood up on the driving seat, peering through the windscreen. Through the swirling snow she couldn't see a damn

 _There._ she caught a flash or red faux-felt through the snow. She squinted, ears back and nose twitching, and leaned as close to the window as she could, her breath freezing on the glass.

"What are you…. Oh _come on!"_ she yelled, incredulously. A moment later the big bear bowled in, the trucks suspension squeaking and shifting in protest as the cab tilted and Judy was nearly thrown off her precarious perch and into the bears lap, as Furschia swore and bulled into the cab, sending flurries of snow and tendrils of icy air everywhere. She had two bags of shopping. Judy had just about got her balance back, when the sergeant noticed that they were still caught on a mailbox, and swearing, got back out again, and pushed the car backwards of the mailbox. She did it carefully and without damaging either truck or mailbox, and having done so paused and leaned on the mailbox to admire her handiwork, noticing that there wasn't a scratch on the fender. The mailbox snapped under her weight, sending Furschia sprawling. Rolling in the now for a moment cursing, she tried to gather her wits and dropped bags. The big she-bear nearly fell on a patch of ice as she struggled with the paper bags under each arm.

"Seriously?" asked Judy. "You stopped by the bodega?"

"You bet you tail-scutt I did sweetness. We need supplies."

"If you haven't noticed, there's a newborn deer calf here and a teen mother running around in the cold! What was so important that t' couldn't wait?"

Furschia looked at Judy stupidly. She then busied herself playing about in the shopping bags, nattering away.

"They didn't have Reindeer or caribou bottle formula, but I got red deer and moose, and a sports bottle of water with a dripper top, so we can zoogle the national needs for the little fella, and I've got heavy cream if we need to alter the fat content, all this herbivore stuff seem watery to me but-"

"So, you're telling me you did it for the baby?" she asked sarcastically, drumming her fingers on the dash. Furschia stared open-mouthed , pulling the door too behind her to keep that last of the snow out. "Sure." She said, completely convincingly.

Judy reached into the bag and pulled out a can of bottle-formula mix, and then reached _past_ that and pulled out one of the eight cans of Sinebrychoff Porter in the bag. One of the special mega-fauna only 1.5 litter tins they only sold in Tundra Town. She raised an eyebrow at the bear.

Furschia grumbled to herself in her Santa costume, and took back the tin, cracking open the beer with a _hiss,_ buckling up, and then cradling the calf in the crook of her other arm.

"Well we can't _all_ live on bottle formula girl!" said the bear "seriously, be practical!" she said, before adding slightly guiltily as the radio played.

 **John Denver** : _Please Daddy Don't Get Drunk This Christmas_

"So, where to?" asked the bear.

Judy stared, and re-started the truck. "What's the nearest hospital?"

"With a maternity ward? St Luke's. Saint Urho's is closer but it's just an emergency room now-a-days since they canceled the planned upgrades again."

"St Luke's it is." Said Judy, putting the truck in gear. "and for goodness sakes stop drinking!"

"Hey, I keep Christmas my way, you keep it yours, Scrooge. No wonder Nick didn't want to hang with you for Christmas, misery-guts."

"Believe it or not _some_ of us were planning to spend today with our _families._ And besides." She said. "Nick would _never_ get involved with anything this crazy. Trust me, he's curled up with a book by now. He doesn't have to put up with this sort of stuff!"

* * *

Nick was about to say something when the pistol-butt slammed into the small of his back winding him, just as the raccoons paws took his feet out, sending him falling into the phone _._

Winded and confused, Nick grasped for the phone-booth to try and keep himself up, when something hit him again, hard.

Knees in the freezing snow and the taste of blood in his mouth, Nick tired, instinctively, to twist out of the way gekkering his displeasure furiously, as a hand grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. It was hard to focus: like many mammals he had a pressure-point there, an evolutionary hang-over so a cub being carried by it's mother would go limp when grabbed there, and the raccoon knew it and was positioning himself directly behind Nick so he couldn't twist and bite him. Nick managed to get ahold of a parked car, and only then realized he was being dragged, he got a good paw-hold and was using it to lever himself up and turn to fight. He was taller that the raccoon, heavier and stronger too, with longer reach: if he could just turn to face him he could use his reach advantage to keep him at bay until-

The muzzle of the pistol jabbed him in the ribs, hard. The jolt was a sudden shock, but that was nothing so much as the fear. That little reminder that no matter how good his grappling, twisting and snarling, that his attacker had a gun, and he did not. Nick's mouth went dry, but fortunately after his brush with Bellwether he was pretty good and managing his fear response, so his pants stayed dry and he kept his wits. Nick put his paws up, slowly, and stopped struggling. He was aware that they taught you to fight as hard as you could early on in self-defense classes, because if you let yourself get wounded or bundled into a car then your odds of survival drop off rapidly, but this was different. He wasn't being mugged, this wasn't an attempted sexual assault, he knew _exactly_ why the guy was attacking him. And besides, you don't bring teeth and claws to a gun fight. Not more than once, anyway. His attacker could have just shot him in the back without him even knowing the raccoon was there. The fact he hadn't indicated he didn't want to kill him. He probably just wanted to scare him off.

 _Or, he thinks that a dead-body in the gutter by the bank might raise some questions make his con seem less convincing, so he's going to drag me into an alleyway_ **then** _plug me. It's Christmas, Judy won't be back on duty for two days, and no-one else would think to look for me. I could be dead in a snow drift for a long time before anyone figures to look for me… oh gods. Not like this…_

The worryingly on the nose music drifting down from the noisy apartment down the block hadn't stopped either.

 **The Killers:** _don't shoot me Santa._

Nick shuddered briefly as the raccoon poked him with the gun again, so close behind Nick that he could feel his body-heat and smell his breath and for a moment Nick was certain he'd shoot him, but then the raccoon seemed to register that Nick had stopped struggling, and after deftly patting Nick down and reliving him on his phone, wallet and keys faster than he'd have believed, he took a step back and poked him with the gun again, indicating that he should get up.

"Alley. _Now._ Allez allez, if you'll excuse the frickin' pun. _"_

Nick, who would excuse almost any pun when forced to at gunpoint, hurried into the alley-mouth he was concerned that the second he was in the alleyway and out of site he'd get shot, and so decided then and there to take his chances and clobber the guy the second he followed him into the alley.

The raccoon, however, didn't comply, staying were he way just outside of Nick's reach. After a moment of staring into the darkness of the freezing alleyway and wondering when he'd feel the bullet in his back, the raccoon grunted.

"Turn around. This real?"

Nick turned, and then groaned inwardly. The raccoon had his wallet out and open, and waved Nick's police consultants badge at him. He had the gun in his other paw, Nick couldn't tell what it was, it looked like a sinisterly blank black sci-fi square, but all polymer handguns did to him: it could have been a GLOCK or a damn _LEGO_ for all he knew, but he wasn't about to risk it.

Nick swallowed, nervously. "If I said no, would it decrease your chance of shooting me?" he joked.

The raccoon snorted. It could have been laughter but Nick couldn't tell.

" 'Special consultant criminologist: Zero hour, minimum grade.' What the hell does that even mean? You an informant?" he said, pouncing it with the same inflection as _transmittable genital warts._

"No!" said Nick, emphatically. There was no quicker shortcut to being found in an alleyway stuffed full of bullets that he could think of than letting the mammal with the gun think you were an informant. "God no! I just … I just… er… it's complicated. I just go to crime scenes and look at stuff and say how I would have done that crime if it were me! I'd never snitch on anyone!"

"Go and look at stuff…. Is that how you made me? What was I doin' wrong, this seems airtight."

"Tire tracks" said Nick. "No breaking skid-marks, and the tracks aren't fully parallel. Besides, it's a good con, but it's an old one. Frank Abagnale."

The racoon stared blankly. Nick frowned, incredulous. "You've never heard of Frank Abagnale? He invented this con, he invented so many of the classics!" Finding a con-artist who'd not heard of Frank Abagnale was like finding a Star Wars fan who'd not heard of Lucas.

Then again with all the prequels and sequels that might be possible now-a-days.

"No." said the raccoon, without hesitation. "He didn't invent it. He might have _thought_ he did, but this con is as old as money. People were doing this with shiny seashells thousands of years ago and are doing it right now in distant alien planets, trust me. No one _invents_ good cons, they just have the same good idea folk before them had: if someone gets their name tacked onto it it's because they told some else about it or got caught. Running a con's like being a spy: if you get famous off of it, you were doing it wrong."

"Huh, never thought of it like that." said Nick. "Ear muffs are a nice touch: hard to take you seriously like that, most people will get distracted by them and not question just how suspicious it is to try and take their bank deposit off them like that. I'd go for a two-person con, security guard and a well-dressed and respectable mammal in a suit claiming to represent the bank , but that's just my personal taste."

"Yeah, well two-mammal con's are always easier." Said the raccoon, before he narrowed his eyes at Nick. "So what, you some sorta ex con, that sort of thing?"

Nick wondered if he should lie on that, but if the raccoon asked where he's spent time and Nick gave a bad answered it could bean death, so he greened, sheepishly, feeling slight queasy and said. "Something like that…. never actually convicted."

The raccoon stared at him for a long time, gun still aimed right at Nick's narrow chest, before sheathing the gun in the holster at his hip, and closing Nick's wallet and tossing it back to him.

"Good, I don't want anyone sloppy helping me with this, and if you're good enough not to be caught and good enough for the fuzz to pay, then I guess you'll do." He said, picking up his dropped briefcase and slipping his paw back thought the handcuff, which Nick noticed didn't lock tight.

"Besides, I ought to have enough dough for phase one here, and I need to get phase two on the go fast: the white-out won't last forever and I need cover for this." He said, gesturing for Nick as he started walking. After a few paces he turned back, walking along backwards as he called to Nick.

"Well? Keep up I ain't got all frickin' day! But I _do_ have a gun." He added, when Nick didn't seem to be following him. Nick hesitated, and considered just running for it, but he raccoon had clear lines of sight to him, and if that big white out was going to hit, it clearly wasn't coming fast enough to hide him from a good shot at less than a thirty foot range.

"What?" asked Nick, hurriedly following after the raccoon. The figure snorted, and as Nick pulled level with him took the briefcase and slammed it into Nick's chest, winding him, Nick took in with both arms, instinctively, like you did, and without even slowing own his walk the raccoon pulled out a small key and cuffed it to Nick's wrist, for real this time.

"Well, like you said, two-mammal con's are just safer. I was wondering how to pull off phase two by myself, but then you come along and fix that problem for me."

"Wait? you want me to _help_ you with a con? Uhuh, no. just no. no way. I've gone straight… mostly. I have a job. I even pay taxes, _actual_ taxes. Why in the world would I help you?"

"Um well now let's see: _I'll shoot you if you don't._ Sound good? Also, you're handcuffed to a bag of stolen money and a phone-jammer, so you can't call for help, can't go to the police without incriminating yourself, and if you run, I can just trace the back hole you leave on the cell grid." He glanced over to Nick, brown eyes glittering in his little bandit-mask face. "Besides, it'll be fun."

"This is basically an armed kidnapping! I am not having fun!"

"Well, I never said it'd be fun for _you_ buddy _._ Personally I love a good kidnapping, keep's stuff from getting stale. Where's the nearest hospital to here?"

"Why, what is it?" asked Nick.

"It's a big building full of doctors and sick people. But seriously, it's in your interest that you tell me. You know, just in case one of us gets shot. Several times. For not telling me where the hospital is."

"You can't just shoot people down in the middle of the street… in midtown maybe, but not in Tundra! The local mobsters get _really_ upset if you do that, it's bad for their monopoly!"

"Hospital." Repeated the Raccoon. He did not say it in an aggressive manner, but he did put a paw on the butt of his gun.

Nick stared, frowning, like he had with Judy when she'd first tried to force him to help with the Otterton case. _Why am I such a victim of threats and blackmail of all things? Did I do something bad in a past life? Offend a mystical gypsy vixen? Is it Karma._

 _Wait… yeah… it's probably karma._

He sighed. "St Luke's." he said, with extreme reluctance. _At least with Judy I got to take her to The nudist club and try and put her off….._

 _Wait._

"But you wouldn't like it." Said Nick, trying to stay casual and hide his sly grin. "it's hardly a place for A respectable gun-wielding criminal. _Crawling_ with cops. And CCTV."

"Criminal?" asked the raccoon. "I'm the one in uniform, you're the one carrying the briefcase of stolen cash. Besides, I'm not from around here but for just a glance at your newspapers, tensions between different species seem to be running pretty high here right now, and it looks like no-one particularly trusts foxes: I yell _Look out, he's got a gun!_ when I draw on you, which of the two of us do you think the cops will start shooting at?" he said, with a small smile. "and trust me, I ain't _that_ respectable."

"Wow. You're a piece of work. And on Christmas eve too."

"Yeah, ain't I a stinker? Trust me, this gets better. You're not going to _believe_ what I've got planed. And besides, best time. Storm coming in, slippery roads, people dumping their elderly relatives in the hospital because they don't want to care for them over the holidays, drunk Christmas parties, the usual full-moon lunatic mob? Chaos. Forget the weather, you want to see a perfect storm go the the hospitals on a day like today I pity anyone who has to try to get any actual work done in a city hospital right now."

* * *

 ***Cut to Judy, cradling he baby, wedged so tight into the mammal next to her, a hippo with a contentious skin complaint and a bottomless medical gown that her cheeks are smooshed right up against their ample behind. Camera pans out to show she is hemmed in on the other sides by a porcupine, a wild boar, and a rhino, and merely at the far corner of the back row of several dozen rows of heaving, shouting, screaming mammals all fighting to reach the hospital's admission's desk.***

"ZPD! Official police business!" Squeaked Judy, for the hundredth time, waving her badge. She'd optimistically tried to use her smaller size to wiggle through the crown ahead for Furschia and gotten separated for her, with the air being squeezed out of her lungs she had to fight to even hear _herself_ over this din, and no-one was looking out for anyone her height, as usual.

The awful piped-in music was not helping her be heard either. Nor improving her mood.

 **NewSong :** ** _The Christmas Shoes_**

"Official… seriously ma'am, could you _not?_ Official police business!" the medical-mosh-pit shifted, and Judy found herself being carried sideways on the tide of it, until she slammed into another leg. Fearing she'd actually get knocked over, and having seen footage of a few soccer-stadium crowd-crushes at the academy she grabbed onto it like a limpet for safety. After a moment, she twigged that the leg was wearing a Santa-costume, and glanced up.

Furschia was sharing her can of beer with a large black-bear housewife, who was holding a cub with his head stuck in a novelty BB8 honey-pot under one arm, and gossiping loudly and drunkenly about which of the male nurses had the nicest backside with the tones of pure unadulterated filth only available to middle-aged women who have long since stopped giving a damn. Judy used Furschia as a breakwater, and moved into the lee of her to get a little breathing space, before tugging on the leg and, when this didn't work, stamping loudly on the ground as only a rabbit could do, an inch from the big bear's footpaw.

Furschia looked down. "Hey, it's fluffbutt. Wait, didn't you go to get help? For the moose?"

"Reindeer."

"Whatever." She said, resuming her drinking. "Of course, I respect your autonomy as a cop. Wouldn't dream as being so patronizing as to try and help a valedictorian without being asked…"

Judy looked back at the crowd. With her training, she could think of a dozen way to clear this room, and a few more to get to the front.

 _But none of them were assuming you're carrying a newborn, or that the people you're trying to get out of the way might be seriously sick, and could be easily injured or even killed by standard take down procedures. So what do you do? Assess, Adapt, Overcome. Use every tool and your disposal, and remember that the simplest way is usually the right way._

Judy glanced up. "Sarge?"

"Yes sweetness?"

"Clear a path for me and I'll use my operation discretion with regards to your illegal consumption of non-prescribed alcohol in a hospital atrium, which is legally a public space. Please."

"Under?"

"Penal cope 10-125, city of zootopia, 2006."

"And the difference between _Operational discretion_ and _selective enforcement_ in this case being?"

"Under current stakeholder engagement regulations we don't arrest orderly drunks, but can still issue summons for open containers, or arrest where the officer in question feels public order is at threat or where the peace is or might be disturbed." Said Judy, trying and failing to imagine any place where there was less evident pubic peace than a hospital accident and emergency room admissions on Christmas eve. "Besides, if it means _less_ paperwork for Bogo or my lieutenant, then somehow they're very keen for it not to get flagged up as selective enforcement: then it's just good community policing. We can't go round arresting _every_ drunk: for a start we'd never find a judge to bring the other judges before."

The bear laughed, a deep throaty chuckle. "Well, spot on knowledge of the actual letter of law _and_ on it's real world application. You're good, I'll give you that Hopps. Natural born beat cop."

 _I am a real cop._ Despite herself, Judy grinned. "Thank you sarge. I just wish everyone respected the badge like you do."

"Well, maybe they just need a reminder on the dignity and majesty of the law." Said Furschia, before grabbing Judy unceremoniously by the scruff of the neck and picking her up.

Furschia took a quick swig of beer for Embouchure, tossed the empty can over her shoulder, took a deep breath, and then roared. A bear does not have a noble and inspiring roar like a lion, a bear always sounds grumpy: Low rumbling, and mournful, with just a hint of digestive upset. In fact, at close range an adult polar bear sounds like it's trying to _throw up_ a noble and majestic lion, and both of them are regretting every second of it.

It was, however, loud. Very, very loud. And pants-wettingly terrifying if you weren't expecting it.

Furschia looked around, and once she was sure she'd got everyone's attention coughed into her hand with theatrical delicacy and said "Sorry, just clearing my throat. And oh my gosh what's this in my paw? Why, it's a tiny little meter maid here to ticket _all_ your cars! We need to keep the hospital's access route clear in this snow, so everyone who hasn't moved their car out of the way in five minutes will be _towed_ … assuming the snow-ploughs don't just ram them off the road first…"

There was a moment of horrified starring, and then half the room rushed back out into the snow, pulling on cats and scarves as the room collectively decided that the very real risk of hypothermia and frostbite was still preferable to traffic court.

Furschia put Judy back on the ground. The Bear held the rabbit's death-glare and foot tapping for a good four seconds, before she grinned mischievously and shrugged.

"Yep, it's all about the dignity you deserve to derive from your badge…. But it _did_ clear a path, and the boys from traffic would be here to tell them to move their cars soon _anyway_ , so we're really just helping."

"Harrumph. I guess." Said Judy, straitening her uniform one handed and she shifted the remarkably heavy reindeer calf onto her shoulder and walked towards the admissions desk. Furschia shuffled along in her wake, humming _baby it's cold outside a_ song that Judy had found remarkably creepy ever since she was old enough to understand the lyrics. As they moved along with enough room to breathe and think, Judy noticed the staff bustling about dealing with the injured, confused, and drunk, she had an involuntary shiver that had nothing to do with the chill air seeping thought the double doors. "Ummm, Sarge, you mind if I ask you a sensitive question?" she whispered.

"Sure?" said the bear.

"Are _all_ the staff here wolves?" she asked, subconsciously clutching the calf a little tighter.

"All? Nah, there'll be a few bears, cats, and small canines. Some herbivores, But most, sure." The bear started to count on her claws. "One, caniform predators can usually smell strokes, sepsis, epilepsy, cancer, certain bacterial blood and upper repertory infections… we're excellent diagnosticians , as you might have noticed from Nick. Hell, even in fiction, why do you think that Sherlock homes is a wolf and Dr House a silver fox? Two, preds are evolved not to be upset by the sight of blood, so they make excellent surgeons, and three: unlike cats, foxes and bears, wolves and hyenas are naturally good team players, comfortable in rigid hierarchies and tend to drift into either medicine, the ZPD or the military. Nothing suspicious about that."

"Yeah, well, when you're a small herbivore and you're hurt or sick and helpless, it's hardly reassuring to have a full pack of wolves looking down at you." Muttered Judy, as they came to the admissions desk.

"Yeah, we're clearly a terrifying bunch." Said Furschia jollily, watching two burly moose medical orderlies try to pull the honeypot of the bear-cubs head. "Quake in fear." She said, turning her gaze to a very bored looking pine-marten wearing a "therapy mammal" uniform who was being stroked by one of the recovering patients.

Judy, feeling a little embarrassed with herself for being a bit insensitive, coughed theatrically, and caught the eye of the tired looking female wolf on the admissions desk. _I have_ _ **got**_ _to stop stereotyping people._ She thought

"Hi, I'm-"

"Look, if it's about the parking-" started the wolf.

Judy frowned. _Re-phrase that. Everyone has_ _ **got**_ _to stop stereotyping people._

"-I'm _officer_ Judy Hopps. Could I talk to someone about a problem I'm having?"

The wolf eye up Furschia warily, wrinkling her nose at the smell of booze. "Sure, what is it? Drunk and disorderly?"

"Yep. Public obscenity too, given the chance." Said the bear, cheerfully.

"A _smaller_ problem." Said Judy, hefting the baby. "Could we talk to someone from you pre-natal, maternity or OBGYN ward, please?"

* * *

The maternity nurse they finally managed to see turned out to be a rather harried and overworked Arctic Fox vixen in blue scrubs, who despite a few aside glances at the Polar-bear Santa reluctantly sobering up in the corner, checked over the calf as quickly and professionally as Judy could have hoped, and was at least willing to answer questions.

"Well, he's healthy enough, and the formula you've got him should be good: Moose as a bit rich but should do in a pinch as a calorie-dense first food, but without his mother's Colostrum he'll be lacking antibodies he ought to have. That'll marginally increase his chances of sickness."

"U-huh?" said Judy, making notes. "And his age, could you tell exactly?"

The Vixen shrugged. "Not more than a few hours, poor thing. No sign of a parent?"

"No: she was being carried by a young female reindeer who got clipped by out truck. I'm guessing that was our mother, but I've no way to know."

"Did she have antlers?" asked the Vixen, re-swaddling the baby in proper hospital-issue gear, while Judy took it's bloodied rags and put them in an evidence bag.

Judy paused. "No, why?"

The vixen grinned. "Contrary to Coka-cola's Christmas adverts, male reindeer don't retain antlers over winter, they lose them after the autumn rut. Females keep theirs all winter… but they do lose them when they calf."

"Wait… so every depiction of Santa I've ever seen with him as a antlered reindeer was wrong?" asked Judy, horrified to loose such a large chunk of her childhood un-expectedly.

The Vixen shrugged. "Yeah, but a big fat deer who sneaks into your room at night is weird anyway, antlers or no antlers. Stranger danger."

"it was a goat for me." Said Furschia, in between cupping her paws and huffing the fumes form the alcohol gel hand-sanitiser. Judy and the vixen stared.

 _"_ _Joulupukki_ , the Julbocken… Yule Goat. He brings presents: Santa Claus is just a recent upstart." She slurred. "or at least, that's what I was taught."

"Huh." Said the vixen. "for us it was Old Grandfather Winter. Goats don't bring gifts, demonic half goats take away bad children. Like the Krampus."

"No, at Christmas bad children are taken away by _Grýla_ the giantess she-bear who makes a tasty stew form bad children… assuming the Yule cat doesn't get them first." Both the arctic mammals noticed Judy's horrified expression.

"Once you get north of the 50th parallel, winter gets pretty damn bleak sweetness, that tends to get reflected in our Christmas traditions, and Tundra town is a mix of the weirdest of them." Said the bear by way of explanation.

The vixen nodded along, before getting back to business. _"_ A antler-less doe tells you two things, officer, one, they just calved, and two, there's not from round here."

"Sorry?"

"Reindeer don't give birth in mid-winter: they've evolved not to, for obvious reasons. But, artificial biomes, they mess that up. It's not just the heat, it's the light. You ever get seasonal adjustment disorder?"

"Yeah, a little." Said Judy. "being Crepuscular it tends to hit me hard, especially when I'm working diurnal day or night shifts."

"It hits tropical mammals worse: on the equator the hours of daylight don't change much between summer and winter. It really messes them up when it does, so the street-lights in Savanna Central and Rainforest, as well as the CBD and bits of Sahara use the same wavelength as sunlight, and run to ensure 12-hour artificial days, all winter. Won't affect you, but for mammals that only go into heat once a year it throws their cycles all out of whack. Our young mother either lives, works or goes to school in another biome. Or, at least did seven months ago when this little darling was conceived." Said the vixen, handing Judy back the freshly swaddled infant. "Best I can do info wise. Nothing to do now but keep him warm and fed, and leave it to you guys and social services."

"Thank you, you've been _really_ helpful!" said Judy. The Vixen shrugged.

"Anything to help. You need this one sedated?" she whispered, leaning and and pointing to Furschia "if so just nod."

"Nah, officer Hopps has an auto-injector anyway, and I'm working on it myself as well." Said Furschia. "Can I go back to my beer's now? I think that cute male nurse is getting of shift soon and I want to try my luck at seduction." Said the bear, only slightly spoiling the flirtation effect by burping mid-sentence. The Vixen wrinkled her nose, and Judy winced and checked her watch.

 _Missed my train home, but my train wasn't the last one. Two more before that. If I leave now and drop of Furschia at her place, I could still make any of them. Social services will be there to pick up the calf soon, and the maternity ward is the best palace for it to spend Christmas anyway…_

The babe shifted slightly in Judy's paws, and she hesitated. She didn't want to leave the little thing all alone, not over its first Christmas, and the mother could still be scared, hurt and alone, assuming she was even safe…

"No." she said, hugging the swaddled, boney, gangly little Bambi the same size as her a little closer. "Not just yet, there are too many loose ends, Sarge, we need to stay here and fix this."

"Ugg, and so what? We wait about in case something happens? In case we get a lead turning up at this very hospital? What are the odds against that?" said the bear.

The curtain for the bay they were in pulled back, and a she-wolf in a security uniform poked her snout in.

"Hey, sorry, you the guys with the foundling?"

"Yes." Said Judy, looking up. "Why?"

The wolf shrugged. "We've got a teenaged reindeer down at reception. She was wondering, just on the off chance, if anyone had found a calf. Asking for a friend, she says. Yay tall? slight injury to left arm. Antlerless. " said the guard.

 _Ah. Of course you'd check the nearest hospital if some stranger took your baby._

"Right, well, we better have a little chat with them then." Said Judy. "I guess just everyone is truing up at this Hospital today.

* * *

"Okay." Said the Raccoon. "You sure about your part in this plan?" he asked Nick, walking past a dozen mammals frantically trying to re-park their cars as they approached the Accident and Emergency room entrance.

"No! Because you didn't tell me what the plan is!" hissed Nick, as the raccoon took Nick's ZPD badge in a paw. The raccoon paused.

"Didn't I? My bad. Standard Bavarian Fire Drill con: just keep talking fast enough to keep people off balance. In fact, I'll do the talking. Just play along and follow my lead. Got it?"

"No, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here- _ooof!"_

Nick staggered over, winded, and clutching his gut where the raccoon had sucker-punched him, more surprised than hurt, as the raccoon switched the positioning on his set of handcuffs so Nick was now hand-cuffed to him and the briefcase was being carried. The raccoon then put a paw on Nick's shoulder, and barged aggressively into the admissions area.

"Out of my way, Out of my way, everyone stay clear! We've a mule here…. Sorry, no offence, I don't mean an actual mule… we've got a smuggler!" he yelled. "Drug swallower! He's got about a dozen balloons full of an un-identified substance inside of him! I need and emergency x-ray, stat!" yelled the raccoon, while Nick realistically clutched at his gut and groaned. Everyone, patents, doctors, staff, security, all just stood and stared, horrified. The raccoon waved Nick consultant's badge around, the ZPD crest clearly visible.

"Quick! We don't know what he's taken, we need to get them out before one of the packets bursts… it could be Nighthowler for all we know!" yelled the raccoon.

Instantly everyone panicked, the young female reindeer trying to get through the door after Nick and the Raccoon nearly bowled over by the stampede as every small mammal in the room fled from the soon-to-be-savage fox. The hospital security all paused, paws half way to nightsticks and other weapons, before realizing that clubbing or Tazing someone carrying drugs internally could just burst the packets.

"You, all of you!" yelled the raccoon, indicating as many security guards as he could see. "With me! We need to get him to an x-ray, stat!" he said, marching purposefully in the direction of the sign that said radiography. The wolf-pack of guards instantly fell into step behind him, hustling Nick along, clearing a path and helpfully giving direction to ensure the raccoon got the fastest route.

After mere minuets Nick found himself handcuffed to a gurney left abandoned in a hallway that smelt of disinfectant and very sick goat, between a sign saying " _X-ray 2, light on when in use, no entry when light shows._ " And another one telling him to wash his paws.

The raccoon paused, while one of the guards unlocked the door and was then dispatched to fetch a radiographer .

"Okay, you guys, seal of both ends of this corridor: no one, _no one_ comes in without my say so. Got it? I need to secure the room, make sure that if the packet does burst and he goes savage there's nothing in there he can use as a weapon.

The wolves nodded sagely, none of them questioning why a savage mammal would use a weapon rather that teeth.

The raccoon hefted his briefcase, and was half-way thought the doors when one of the wolves put a paw on his shoulder.

"Hey, wait just one ruttin' moment…" he said, and the raccoon and Nick both held their breath.

 _Oh god._ Thought Nick, _don't start a firefight if you're caught…._

The wolf jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at Nick, bent over the gurney. "If he's carrying drugs internally, shouldn't we give him a full cavity search, you to be on the safe side? Swallower or not, you can never be too careful with these addicts."

" _What!?"_ said Nick. The raccoon paused, clearly relived that he hadn't just been busted. His face slowly broke into a truly evil grin.

"Sure, why not?"

 _"_ _What!"_

The raccoon quickly slipped in thought the door, got a screwdriver and quickly and efficiently started stealing the metal-jet-anode microfocus X-ray tubes while behind him Nick's search happened.

"Doctor, over here if you'll please!"

"And have my paw inside a fox when he goes savage? No way, find another doctor, this rabbit wants to live to see Christmas!"

"I'll do it." Said a far deeper voice. Wolf by the sound of it.

"Oh god no! I didn't swallow any drugs! Help, I've been kidnapped by a mad philistine raccoon! He doesn't even know who Frank Abagnale is! Let go of my tail, I have rights! Help, I've been kidnapped, he's not even a real cop!"

"Sure he's not buddy." Said a voice, followed by the sound of a brief scuffle, and the stretch and _snap_ of a rubber glove being donned. "Shall we hit him with some pain-kilers doc?" asked one of the guards.

"No, we don't know what he's already taken, there could be an adverse reaction."

"I've not taken anything, take a blood sample and check!" yelled Nick, "or even better, let me go and put my pants back on, this is humiliating!"

"He looks like he might be on Nighthowler right now, do we have time for the saline Jelly?"

"Yes, yes you have time, cut a guy a break, will you? One canine to another? Oh god, what big paws you have! Help, I'm a ZPD consultant! Call chief Bogo, he'll vouch for me and _Yip!_ _ **Woah!**_ Oh god why do doctors always have such cold hands?"

"Shut up, I don't want to be here anymore than you do, and it's cold because that's not my paws: thats a sonogram pen so I can check you're entire lower abdomen in one sweep... okay, he's clear. If he is a swallower, it could be elsewhere in the digestive tract, we to get him to x-ray before it bursts."

The Raccoon grinned, and moved on to stealing the radioactive barium, as he worked down his mental checklist, filling up his briefcase with loot, before finishing up and putting the casing back on the x-ray and heading for the door of the room.

He slipped back out, just as something similar was happening to Nick, who'd gone cross-eyed.

"X-ray is busted, for some reason." The raccoon said, thinking about his little shopping list and the need for liquid-helium cooled super-electromagnets. "Can we try the MRI? Keep him cuffed to that gurney and wheel him over there, then form a perimeter, I'll secure the room." He said, feeling the screwdriver brushing against his leg thought the fabric of his pants. "Make sure there's nothing loose in there that could be a risk." He said

* * *

Judy, wondering vaguely where most of the hospital security had gone and what all the fuss was about, made her way down to a small examination room just off the main Accident and Emergency Room. She paused outside the door, and waved away Furschia and the Security guard: she didn't thing that an armed wolf would be the first thing that a traumatized, and frightened young mother would want to see, and _no-one_ deserved to have Sergeant Furschia inflicted on them, so she bade them stay outside, checked she didn't look too disheveled or intimidating before she went in. The baby was upstairs, sleeping peacefully in the maternity ward. She wasn't about to make this any more emotionally charged than it needed to be by bringing a newborn along. Judy peered in through the lover of the two windows in the door

The deer was shivering slightly, still under-dressed for the weather, and now she knew to look for it, her fur was thin, not a winter coat, and her t-shirt was sun-faded. _Not a resident of tundra town_. She thought. Judy wasn't great at guessing the ages of every species, but she was pretty good on her even-toed ungulates, and she was guessing 16, 17 tops. Still no mobile phone, still no purse or coat. Judy could see a large graze on her left-arm that she was pretty sure was from Sargent Furschia's truck's tail-gate.

Well, no point spying through doorways, Judy thought, pushing open the doorway.

The deer shivered, and looked at the door opening, before flicking her eyes down. The teenager shot up off the cot she was sitting on. "You!" she said, before noticing Judy's uniform, and backing up into the corner of the room.

 _Great, what are you supposed to say at a time like this?_

"Hi, we might have got off on the wrong foot when I hit you with that truck." Said Judy, settling for honesty, as she eased into the room, indicating the cot and gently gesturing the deer to sit again.

"My name's Judy." Said Judy, avoiding using her police rank and she moved onto the stool in the corner of the room, opposite the deer. "And you are?" she said, and then waited for the obvious fake name.

"Mary." Said the deer, after a long pause.

 _Of course you are._ thought Judy. _And me Furschia and the security are the damn wise men._ She wrote that down anyway, and got an equally fake sounding surname _Rangifer._

"I understand you're here to talk to me about a lost calf." Said Judy

"Yes my…. cousin." Said the Deer shifting uncomfortably. She had patches of damp fur on her inner thighs, slightly blooded, Judy noticed. _From when her water broke most likely._ The deer noticed her looking, and crossed her legs and smoothed out her skirt to cover herself and coughed with a mix of embarrassment and nervous defiance. She seemed close to tears.

"My cousin. My uncle's son." She said, defiantly. She may even have half believed it, Judy thought. She opened her notebook, and wrote down _son._ The deer knew the sex of the baby then.

"Okay, and the baby's' mother?" asked Judy. The deer's hand unconsciously went and brushed against the top of her head, and the still-raw path were her antlers had shed. Judy noticed scaring along both her outer forearms. _Possible self-harm?_ She made a note to get a photo as evidence if she could

"Look, I shouldn't have taken the baby to the store with me, I understand that now…. But when you hit me with that car, and I saw the uniform…. I panicked." Said the deer, her voice trembling. "I didn't know what to do I thought I'd get in trouble, please." She said, sobbing. "Please, please, can I just have the baby back, please? I won't cause any trouble, I just want them back, please." She said, sobbing.

Judy put a comforting paw on the deer's shoulder, and offered her a tissue box. 'Mary' took the tissue, and blew her nose with, a big, snotty tearful _honk._ While she was distracted with this, Judy pretended to check her phone, and snapped a shot of her arms: Like most cops, Judy had switched off the fake shutter noise on her phone long ago.

Judy held out a disposable compressed cardboard single-use bedpan by way of a wastepaper basket, and the deer dropped the used tissue in it.

"Mary, we need to find the baby's _parents_ , okay? He needs his mom about now, so were going to go talk with social services and a few other people to try and find out who that is. Okay? And anything you can say that will help us find out who that little calf mom is… well, doe to doe, that'll be just the best thing you can do right now…" said Judy. She then waited, giving the deer her perfected big-eyed pleading stare for a long time, hoping he deer would do the decent thing and admit to being the mother.

The girl shuddered, and looked down at her hooves, wringing her hands in her mini-skirt.

"I just want my cousin back, okay?" she said, voice husky with pain and snot.

Judy signed, and patted the girl vaguely. "Okay, well, if we work out exactly who's baby that is, then we'll let you know what we're doing then. Until then, sit tight and we'll see what happens. Okay?"

The deer nodded, miserably . As Judy turned to leave Mary blurted out. "Can I see him, the baby?"

Judy paused in the doorway. She half-turned. "We'll see, Mary, we'll see." She said, walking out.

The door had barely swung shut when Judy had got her tweezers out and decanted the snotty tissue from the sterile cardboard and into an evidence bag. "This hospital, is this were where run our forensic lab?" she asked Furschia. Judy looked up. The big bear was sitting on a chair, tin of beer in hand, and snoring loudly. The wolf security guard replied.

"No, I think that's St Jude's, ZPD operations are split between them and St Michael's. We do have a DNA lab in the microbiology department 'tho. They do court-ordered paternity tests. " said the wolf, reading her mind.

"Legally Admissible?"

"Be a pretty bad court-ordered test if it wasn't. You could get that compared to the baby's DNA in about an hour, but you'd never get it done right now: what with the Christmas rush they've a two week backlog, and only federal cases are getting fast-tracked."

"Federal?" asked Judy, thoughtfully.

* * *

"So then I shot him lots." Said the Moose. He had an out-of-town police badge swinging from around his neck, and was wearing a white wife beater. A dead wolf in a military buzz-cut was lying partly crushed under a stack of luggage after the shoot out in the luggage processing area.

"U-huh?" asked Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez, squatting down and sitting on her heals as she poked at the guy's ID badge with a pen as she put on her gloves. The ID read 'Cochrane.' Behind her, the moose argued with a Civet TSA agent.

"Luggage? That _punk_ pulled a Glock Seven on me. Know what that is? A porcelain gun from Germany. It doesn't show up on airport x-ray machines... and it costs more than you earn in a month."

"You'd be surprised what I earn a month."

"Glock seventeen, Austrian, and more than 80% steel by mass. The metal detector thing is a rumor we started, to catch stupid hijackers." Said ZG, getting her phone out. "and any police officer should know just how cheap Glock's are now a days, unless that _was_ the joke."

"It's not that much of a joke." Muttered the TSA officer. "I'd almost make more as a barista."

"Well, they do always say that civets make the best coffee, but personally I'll pass." Said ZG. "and don't worry officer, we'll seal all this off and get forensics in pretty sharply." She said to the moose, photographing the ID the wolf was wearing on his coat, zooming in on the passport-style head-shot photo.

"Post 2001, you really think we'd treat a guy with a gun in a restricted area of an airport as anything other than a major incident?" asked ZG, half jokingly. "Especially not with a fake airport ID. Okay, officer, If you'd like to make your way to the cells here, and we will interview you and then you can be on your way…"

"What are you doing?" asked the moose, glancing at ZG's phone. "Some sort of secret federal facial recognition stuff?" the skunk snorted.

"Zoogle reverse image search. If that doesn't work the secret spookshow stuff can be plan B. Hopefully rather that use a new, unique photo for the fake ID they re-used an older one…Ah, our dead guy had a Facebook profile. Ex-special forces… and officially he died over two months ago, his entire team too. That's interesting." She glanced to the civet. "I'm e-mailing you the page, pull mug shots of everyone in his unit and circulate them to security, and call the military, and have everyone who's worked closely with the guys in the past year confined to barracks and background checked as a precaution, I've just spotted a post supporting our incoming foreign war-criminal from his friends online, and I'm refusing to see _that_ as a coincidence. Preemptively re-route his plane to an air-force base, just to be sure. Ah, one of our dead special forces has left their Instagram on, broadcasting his location. Abandoned church, edge of the airport, send a full swat team. _And_ the mobile riot units with the snow-ploughs."

ZG smiled, putting away her phone. "Can you imagine how long this would have taken to sort out back before smart phones and social media? We could probably have made a full action film out of it."

The TSA Agent grinned, handing the moose over to another Agent. "Yeah like when those guys planned to rob that tower block during the fake hostage taking, but we noticed them buying the weapons online and stopped them before their flight left Germany? God, life must have tough before computer did the legwork in counter terrorism."

ZG was about to say something, when her phone rang, and she swore and pulled it out of her pocket again, checked the name, and swiped right.

"Hey, _súper conejita_. I take it it's not a social call?"

"Not exactly. I'm in a bit of a sticky problem, just found an abandoned infant, and a possible reindeer teen mom. Nasty looking case, and a few scared and upset mammals. A DNA paternity test would fix a lot of my problems, but there is about a two week backlog for non-federal cases."

ZG kissed her teeth and then made an in-drawing breath noise. "And you need a helping paw? I see. Have you arrested them and got samples via a court order?"

"No, forensic evidence collected at the scene that I can directly tie to them, that way I don't need to worry about their consent, cuts a lot of the legal red-tape. If needed I can arrest and re-sample later."

"Clever bunny. That leaves the door open for federal involvement, were as if you've already arrested someone involving another agency becomes harder. Well, as it turns out I'm stuck here missing my Christmas vacation and having a pretty awful time."

"Me too."

"Yeah, so I sympathise with you more than the lab-techs would. Okay, give me the labs number and I'll phone up and put the fear of god into them, get you bumped up the list. You owe me, though. A lot."

"Thanks, you're a godsend. Everything okay down at the airport."

ZG looked at the dead wolf by her feat, and then peered out the windows just as the swat team reached the abandoned church. At this distance all you could see were flashing police lights, but given those would only be switched on _after_ the team had made there entrance, it was a sign it was as good as over.

"Had better Christmas eves, had worse." She said phlegmatically. "You?"

Judy, trying to write up her case notes as Furschia flopped sideways from her chair and started leaning on her and drunkenly snorting and drooling in her sleep, shrugged.

"About the same. Merry Christmas Special Agent."

"You too _súper conejita._ Bye." Said ZG, hanging up. She took the set of binoculars offered by the TSG agent, and peered out as the swat teams herded out a group of _very_ sad looking mammals.

"Ah." She said: one of the swat team as a skunk. "That explains the gas-masks and disposable paper over suits, I guess." She paused, and lowered the binoculars.

"Are those guys with guns still painting the unfinished terminal?"

"Yeah."

"And?" she asked, raising the binoculars again.

"And they still haven't realised we've got a sniper watching the windows and another covering the fire escapes and the corridor to the main airport. You want we should send in the swat once we're done at the church?"

"Have they finished the second coat yet?" asked ZG. It was quite a nice shade of navy blue.

"I'm not sure."

"Well, let's Tom Sawyer them for another hour or so and then we'll inform them that we have their friends, that we control the air-con for that terminal from here, and that if they don't surrender without a fight they'll be more than one really pissed off skunk involved." Said ZG, peering thought the binoculars again. It was shaping up into a moderately interesting Christmas.

* * *

Judy put her phone away, and as she did noticed the female wolf security guard was back.

She looked up. The wolf had a male reindeer with her, wearing a light tan weight linin suit that wouldn't have looked out of place in Sahara or Savanna central, and alters, which showed he was de-synchronised from the seasons like the mother and calf.

"Hi, I'm Reginn Rangifer, I understand that my niece is here?"

Judy and Reginn sat themselves down in the hospital cafeteria, and drank awful coffee while Judy went over Reginn's details on his phone. She'd obviously asked for proof of ID before he let him meet with either he baby or Mary, and he'd brought out his driver's licence, proof of address and a few family photos on his phone. They quite clearly showed a family scene, at the park, with him, a slightly younger Mary in a Gazelle t-shirt, an two other reindeer, clearly Mary's parents.

"When Sigmund and Hiordis passed, I took in Mary. Formally adopted her, too, uncle and step-father." He joked. "Two jobs, zero pay checks." His face then grew grave. "After that car crash… well, she was in the back seat. Survivor's guilt they say, she was so depressed. I thought she just needed time to mourn, was maybe struggling to adapt when she moved in with me… I work in savanna central, oil prospecting. But then she started with the…" he paused, and then said. "Did you see her arms?" he asked. He seemed somewhat worried by the question. If fact, he looked about ready to bolt out of the room.

Judy nodded. "When did she start cutting?"

Reginn slumped on the seat, clearly relived that she'd said it not him. "I'm not sure, some point in the last year. I hit all the blades in the house, all the glass too, put bolt on the cabinets…. She used to sharpen her antlers on the walls and use those. It's not just this, there were other self-destructive behaviours, Gangs, drugs too, I think. She, she fell in with the wrong crowd. I had to pull her out of school, home school her. That would have been about seven eight months ago. I… Christ, I didn't even know she was pregnant, I mean, she didn't look it…"

"Any idea who the father might be?" she asked

"Some good for nothing young buck no doubt. Other than that, haven't the foggiest. I mean, I tried to keep her away from any of those scumbags at her old school." He shrugged, looking tiered, old and defeated, although he couldn't have been more than 30.

"I… I just want her safe. At home, with me. For Christmas." He said, pleadingly. "The baby too."

Judy paused: it would be easy enough to check the details: a fatal car crash would leave the mother of all paper trials, she knew, she'd attended a few. Adoption papers, and records of home schooling would also be traceable. Now she was inducted into the ZPD computer system, she could check from anywhere in the city with a laptop and a reasonably secure connection. And if he was her legal guardian, that would be an end to it.

 _We'd still need to file a report on why the baby was born out in the snow like this, flag it up with social services, for a follow up check later on, although god's knows they've got enough on their plate already. But still, we might just get this fixed by Christmas._

Judy smiled. She was going to make this right, and more so that justice, _making things right_ was why she did the job.

"Okay, sir, here's what I'm going to do. I can neither confirm nor deny that Mary and the baby are here, _but_ I can check over the ID document's you've given me, run a background check on you and make sure that everything you said is as described, dot the I's and cross the t's, but once I've done that, I'm sure I can find a way to put you in contact with your niece and her baby." Said Judy, scooping up his driving licence and the telecom's bill he'd brought as proof of ID. "Give me half an hour with a scanner and a laptop, and we might go some way to putting this right. No, don't worry, I'll clear this up." She said, tidying up the coffee cups as well. "Just wait here, and, well, I would say have more coffee, but that stuff tastes like feat. Sit tight, sir, and I'll get right back to you."

"Thank you. You know, officer, you're a real Christmas angel." He said, smiling.

Judy grinned back at him, and then went off with the ID and the empty coffee cups. Was just handing them back in to the cafeteria staff, when she spotted Furschia sleeping in the corner, and a thought struck her. She paused, and did a double take.

She'd had black coffee, tow sugars, her usual. He'd had creamer, and a mug the size of her torso. It made it pretty easy to tell who had had which. Biting her lip, and glancing over to check he had his back to her and was playing on hi phone, she got out an evidence bag, and bagged up his cup. This was looking like being a proper Christmas happy ending… but one of the gifts Furschia had given her, other than a few scars and a lasting phobia of giant toilets, was a suspicious streak a mile wide.

 _And after Bellwether, I've learned that you need to suspect even the nicest ones._ She thought, taking the bag up to the DNA lab on the top floor. She paused curiously at the cordon of security guards outside the Radiology section on the second floor, and the muffled banging noises and cursing coming from inside the MRI room, but shrugged, and continued up the stairs and went up to the top floor. Whatever it was, it wasn't her business.

* * *

Nick looked over the carnage of spare parts as a raccoon tail hung out of the gutted innards of the MRI scanner and the muffled swearing from inside it continued.

"You're actually insane!" said Nick. "Certifiably insane! You can't fence an MRI, even if you could get it out the building!"

"Don't need to fence it, and have a plan to get it out. Are you going to help or what?"

"No, because last time In helped you a got a impromptu proctologists appointment for my trouble, and before that massive discomfort and indignity, I was, in order, held at gunpoint, punched, and paraded thought a hospital and slandered as a drug-swallower! My good moral standing has been called into question!"

"My good _sitting_ is more what I'd worry about if I was in your skin. Then again… You're what, mid thirty's? Free prostate exam at your age isn't to be sneezed at. Pass me that three-quarter inch wrench?" Glowering, Nick passed him the wrench. The guy still had the gun, after all.

"Did I say Three-quarter?"

"Yeah?"

"Make it a five-eights. Thanks."

There was a brief blare of music, a ring tone.

 **Blue Swede:** _hooked on a feeling._

"Yeah, what? I'm working on it Peter. I….

 _What do you mean you're doing_ _ **Die Hard?**_ Hostages, tower block, fake terrorists, gunfights? _no shoes?_ Great, just great, you're having a great time, and I'm missing it because I've got to fix up our ride. Perfect. Frickin' perfect. No, I don't care, I'll be there when I'm there. I hope Alan Rickman shoots you. Best Christmas story ever, and I'm in the wrong frickin' special. No, get bent." There was the sound of him hanging up. "Prick."

Said the Racoon, re-emerging from inside the MRI.

"Well, I backed the wrong conceptual horse on this one. " he said, wheeling out a circular ring electromagnet a meter and half in diameter, or a bit taller than Nick was, that he gave the fox to hold it, he went back in for another. Combined with the briefcase full of god knew what, and now with an electric-cable shoulder strap, and a thermos flask with a pressure-release valve filled with liquid helium, that made a lot of very weird loot.

"How are you even going to get this stuff out of the room? Unless you forgot, you stationed a dozen guards outside the door!"

The Raccoon looked Nick up and down, and sniffed, twice.

"You foxes… Ya got a fairly strong musky scent, if you don't mind me saying."

"And you're a thieving trash panda! See, personal comments like that hurt- _hey!"_

The racoon had grabbed two of the paper covers they put on the MRI bench to stop it getting covered with fur, and was rubbing Nick with one in each hand, trying to get one under his collar an one up under the waistband of his pants and then up up towards his belly, before rubbing down his face and tail with the two of them, making Nick wince and back away into the corner: he was fine with getting threatened with guns, sort of, but this was getting weird.

"Hey, quit it! What the hell is wrong with you? Get off me!"

"Here, hold these." Said the racoon, gesturing for Nick to stand behind the door, and giving him the two big electromagnet rings to prop up, and draping the shoulder strap of the briefcase over him. "Stand there." he said, taking both of the paper covers over to the window. He opened the window, and stared out at the passing traffic through the near white out snow for a moment, before spotting a city works department pick-up truck and balling up one of the paper covers and tossing it in the back. He then closed the window carefully, and then smashed it with the butt of his gun and fired two shots out into the concrete wall opposite.

Immediately the door was booted open, Nick fully concealed behind it, and two wolves burst in to see the racoon leaning down from the broken window, holding the paper cover in one hand.

"Dammit! He went crazy and jumped! He's savage! The package must have burst!" He turned, staring at the wolf standing inches from Nick, separated only by the door. "Well, don't just stand there! Go after him, you lot, take the front, you two, take the back! Go! I'll stay here in case he doubles back! Now!" The wolves bolted, and as they did the racoon whistled and ran after one of them, "Hey, he was lying on this when he went crazy, take this!" he yelled, throwing the cover. "See if you can get a scent off it, follow it as far as you can, he may have jacked a vehicle, I'll arrange the police back up!" he yelled. The wolf saluted, actually _saluted_ him, and then ran off with the cover.

The raccoon paused for a moment, and then grinned, and leaned back in to the room, and signaled to Nick with the gun. "Well, that's them chasing their tails in a blizzard for the foreseeable future. What are you waiting for? Help me wheel these bad boys into the service elevator."

* * *

Judy finished filing and double-checking the info on a laptop in the nurse's station. The scanned copies of the drivers license and utilities bill had been logged as evidence, and her access to the DMV software had confirmed the ID and their registered address was the same as the one listed in the bill. Mary had indeed been orphaned when her parents had died in the car crash, and he's been flagged as a possible PTSD case afterwards by the court mandated counseling. Uncle had taken her in, and put in the paperwork to legally adopt her soon after, although it hadn't actually cleared yet, the background checks required to do so famously taking forever. He'd even registered as home schooling her about seven months before, as he'd said. His story checked out, and he was her legal guardian as surviving next of kin after the crash: contrary to popular legend, social services generally didn't take teens into care when there was a surviving able-bodied relative willing to take them in unless forced too. It was traumatic for the kid, and costly for social services.

Judy leaned back on the swivel chair, propped up on several medical journals to reach the screen, and drummed her fingers on the desk. There was still no clue as to the calf's father, but Mary was clearly Reginn's problem, legally speaking. Based on her understanding of family law, the calf too. Mary was a minor, that made the baby the responsibility of her guardian. There was something off about this whole situation, but she couldn't say what. _Maybe it's just such a sad little story for Christmas. The poor scared girl doesn't seem to have had a good life the past few years, just difficulty and hardship after hardship, and I can't see a baby improving that any._

Judy sighed, and ran a paw over her ears, slicking them back.

 _Then again, police can't always make everything better. There's a time when you need to just hand things over to the relevant people, and make sure that social services schedules a check-up for a few months down the line. Basic police principles: make sure it doesn't spread, make sure no one is dead, make sure no one is going to be dead soon, call for back up_ _ **before**_ _you need it. If you've done that, hand over the case when you've done all that you can, and hope for the best._ None of those criteria applied. She'd done all she could: the baby was safe, the probable mother safe too, and there was a responsibly adult willing to take both of them in, and social serves had got the details forwarded on to them by e-mail. There wasn't anything left to do except give Mr Rangifer his driver's licence, niece and new grand-nephew back

 _Hope you can still sleep at night._ Was an additional add on that Furschia always added, after those other four basic policing principles. _And if not, do something until you can._ She didn't know if she could sleep after this sad little case, but there was nothing else to do. Time to close this case, drop off her sleeping polar bear at her apartment, and try and catch the last train home: she could file her police report for this via e-mail form her parents place.

Judy went and found mister Rangifer, handed back his ID and got him to deal with the various bits of paperwork required before you could actually walk out of hospital with a new-born. Fortunately, reindeer calves could stand munities after birth, an evolutionary hang-over from the bad old days, and asides from a quick medical the baby was good to go.

Mary might be another matter entirely, Judy thought sadly; as mister Rangifer carried the calf down to meet her. When she pushed open the door of the exam room Mary shot up of her seat eagerly, clearly hopping Judy had come to tell her she could see the baby. Her face lit up when she saw the baby, and there was some genuine motherly love there, no doubt, but she then froze up when she saw who was carrying the calf. Her eyes went wide, shocked. Judy would have said afraid if she didn't know better.

 _Then again if I'd got knocked up and my Mom found out, and had the baby with her I'd probably swallow my tongue._

Neither reindeer spoke for a long time, and then Mary broke eye contact, and looked down at her feet, and swallowed nervously.

"Mary… I'm not going to pretend I'm not angry and upset." Said Mr Rangifer after a while, "I don't know how this happed, I mean, I didn't even know you… were in the family way, and I don't know how or why you ran away, I mean, you don't even have any winter clothing or a phone! But… but it's all okay. I'm going to make it all okay. Things will be _exactly_ as they were before, understand?" he said kindly, hefting the baby. "Just with the baby there. Understood?"

Mary looked at him, frightened and defiant as only a teenaged mother could be, eyes flicking between Reginn, Judy and the baby and looked about to speak, before Judy saw something crumble in her, and she hung her head.

"Yes." She whispered, rubbing at her scarred arm listlessly.

"Good." Said Mister Rangifer, moving over, and draping a blanked over the stained and still shivering teen. A nervous shudder went thought her, which at the Time Judy put down to the re-union with her baby. Mister Rangifer then stood with a hand protectively over Mary's shoulder while Judy gave them both her contact number for if they needed to call, along with the number for a ZPD family liaison officer and counselling service. She also made a few subtle and some less subtle attempts to find out who the baby's father might be, but Mary only looked away, turning her head away from Judy and Mr Rangifer both, only staring at the floor while Rangifer rubbed at her shoulder reassuringly. She then warned them that due to the nature of the case, social services would be around to check up on the baby in the future.

"When?" asked Mary, head snapping back intently, fixing Judy with an urgent, intense stare.

"Probably not for months." Said Judy, trying to re-assure the girl. Mary slumped and shivered again, showing dis-appointment. _Clearly our little run-away doesn't want to see social serves._ Judy thought.

With that, there was nothing else to do but exhaustedly with them a merry Christmas, and try and get Furschia home.

"Officer?" said a voice, as Judy was turning to leave.

Judy looked over her shoulder.

Mister Rangifer was standing with both hands on Mary's shoulder from behind, protectively, and kidded her on the top of the head. "Thank you, Miss Hopps, for bringing her back to me safe."

Judy nodded, more tired than she would have thought after all this, and replied to him. "It's okay sir, we at the ZPD put helping people first. Have a merry Christmas."

"I will." He said. "You too."

* * *

 _Slam!_ The door closing woke Furschia up with a snort.

"Wazf?" said the big bear, blinking. She was surprised to find herself back in her own truck, tin of beer still in hand. She peered bleerily thought the window: in the snow she could just see two burly black-bear medical orderlies walking away, having just pushed her back into her car. She turned her head. Judy was in the driver's seat, putting the truck into gear.

"What happened?" said the bear, slightly thickly. Judy snorted with exasperation.

"I solved the case and got the baby taken care of, no thanks to you sarge, and now we are _both_ going home for Christmas. Now, throw out that beer, I'm not driving with you waving an open can about."

"Can I at least finish it?" asked the bear, blinking owlishly.

"No, you're drunk."

"I Weigh over 600 pounds, it takes a _lot_ to get me drunk."

"You managed it."

"Please? If you don't let me I'll sing." she threatened.

Judy sighed.

"Fine, but don't take too long. You've got thirty seconds to finish as much beer as you can, after that I'm tossing the tins. All of them."

Furschia grinned. "Oh sweetness, you are _on."_ She said, grabbing the remaining six cans out of her bodega eight pack, three in each huge hand, and raised them to her mouth. Biting down on the bottom of the first two cans and, piercing one with each upper canine, she popped the tops of the cans with claws the size of Judy's forearm and shotgunned the two cans at once, before letting them fall, and moving onto the next pair with practiced efficiency. The entire affair took, perhaps, twenty seconds, and with 1.5 litter cans had probably involved about Judy's weight in liquids. The bear than sat up strait, threw her head back and let out an eleven second beery bear-y burp, before shifting in her seat, and staring down at the rabbit drunkenly.

"So, our Winter's tail end well?" she asked, as Judy, after a few moment of horrified staring, put down the gas and moved the vehicle out into the snow. It was worse than before, near total whiteout.

Judy nodded. "Girl re-united with baby and family, and take back in. A happy ending to a real life Christmas story."

"No." said Furschia, after a while. "No, that's not how it works: the Christmas story always gets darker before the happy ending. Scrooge, It's a wonderful life, Die hard, even home alone. It's the Christmas cycle, you have you have the darkest night before you get the dawn. That's how it _works._ A real Christmas story gets super dark in the third act, _then_ the happy ending."

"Well, I'm just glad were not in a story then." Said Judy smugly, before hitting the breaks, her face a rictus of panic, as she narrowly avoided running down two mammals in the hospital parking lot. The looked like a raccoon and a fox, wheeling some sort of rings bigger than themselves through the snow and not paying attention to vehicles. With the visibility they appeared and vanished almost instantly like ghosts, and it was all Judy could do not to run the fox down, instead swerving round them in a spray of snow and slush, before pulling onto the main road, and pressing on.

" _Oh gosh-darn! …_ Embleer Idiots! What are those to playing at?" she said, glancing in the rear-view, but they were gone, lost in the eddies of snow. "They're going to get hurt playing round like this, I've half a mind to arrest them!"

Furschia frowned, thoughtfully. "Was that Nick?"

"Sarge, there a hundreds of thousands of foxes in the city, and he doesn't even live in Tundra Town. It seems a little unlikely, don't you think?" she said, as the bear shrugged and settled down for a quick nap.

* * *

Nick, covered in snow and slush, stared at the retreating truck.

"Judy?" he asked no-one in particular. He didn't even want to know why Judy was bombing around Tundra Town in an unfamiliar truck with a polar bear dressed as Santa, but given there was only one rabbit on the force, he knew who it was.

"Hey, hurry up!" yelled the raccoon through the snow. Nick shook himself off, dog-like, and wheeled the magnet over to the high-sided truck. The Raccoon was already wheeling his magnet up a ramp into the back. The truck was rammed with an insane about of presumably stolen electronics. As Nick was swearing and grunting to push the magnet up, a second truck pulled up.

"It's okay, I called them here." Said the Raccoon, as a half dozen sand-coloured jackals and a pair of spotted hyenas, all with assault rifles, got out, and opened the back of the truck.

"You have it?" asked the raccoon.

One of the Hyenas nodded, and the two of them got a 55 gallon drum out of the back. It was steaming slightly in the cold, Nick noticed.

The Raccoon got down, and lifted up the lid, there was an instant flare of glowing blue light, and one of the jackals jumped back. The raccoon laughed.

"Don't worry, every seven centimetres of water it goes through halves the ionising radiation. You could swim in the spent-rod storage tanks, and the water would actually protect you from the sun's UV and you'd get less radiation that a walk in the park. 'course you' probably get shot, but that's why it costs money." He said, pulling a wedge of bank night-deposit envelopes the size of Nick's head out and tossing the hyena what Nick reckoned to be at least twenty grand.

"Pleasure doing business with you." He said, as the two hyenas dumped the drum in the back of the raccoons truck and strapped it down. They took the money and fled, shivering. The raccoon then shut the back of the truck, and turned to Nick, gun raised.

Nick froze up, terrified, but then the raccoon put away the gun, and patted him on the shoulder.

"And you too, I guess." Said the racoon, jumping up into the cab of the truck. Nick blew a sigh of relief. It was over.

"Although, I hate loose ends. Loose ends get you caught. So I guess I should let you have this…"

Upon hearing that, Nick dropped to his knees, paws clenched pleading. "Please No buddy! It's Christmas! I'm in love, you can shoot me! I have, er…. A sick mother! And a wife and kid! I volunteer at an orphanage and I-"

There was a loud _Thock!_ Not unlike a silenced firearm, followed by two others.

Nick flinched, but then when he didn't feel any pain, he looked down.

In the snow in front of him were his wallet, keys, and phone, were the racoon had tossed them making the noise.

"I noticed you never got a chance to cash that check, so I slipped you two-hundred, to tide you over until new-years. I'm an ass, but I'm not a _complete_ ass." Said the racoon, grinning as he started the truck. "Merry frickin' Christmas, pal." He said, before pulling away, spraying snow.

Once Nick was sure that he'd actually gone, he scrambled in the snow, looking for his stuff. He found the keys first, then the wallet, with his check and consultant ID neatly put back by the two benny's. He found his phone last, and called Judy again, she needed to know what had happened.

Busy signal. He cursed.

"Oh come on! Who are you phoning now?"

* * *

Judy was checking the time on her watch when the phone rang.

 _If I drop of Furschia in less that fifteen, I can still make my last train… huh?_

She swore, scrambled for her phone, and manged to put in on speaker.

"Hello? Officer Judy Hopps, ZPD?"

"This is the DNA lab at St Luke's. I've just processed the samples you gave me." Said the voice. No hi, no hello, no name, just a low and urgent tone. He sounded annoyed maybe, Judy thought. Certainly not a happy guy.

She groaned. "Oh god, I'm so sorry, I forgot I even requested those tests! Look, sir, the case has wrapped itself up, if you have any information you can give it to officer-"

"Officer, these results. You wanted to know the parentage of our mystery reindeer calf? We're got the results. The child has more than half his alleles in common with Mary Rangifer…. And _exactly_ half in common with Reginn Rangifer."

"Yeah, look I'm not entirely _au fait_ with the technical vocabulary." Said Judy "I just needed to confirm the baby was Mary's and not the vague cover story about it being her cousin, the uncles son." said Judy.

The line went ominously quiet, and Judy thought for a bit she might have lost it in the snow.

"Hello? For my case I just need to know if the baby is Mary's or if it's the Uncles kid."

"It's both." Said the phone. "One parental match to the DNA sample from Mary, the other a match to the uncle. He's the father."

 ***Dolly zoom thought the windshield on Judy's face as her ears droop and eyes go wide.***

Judy hit the brakes so fast the truck fish-tailed, and the detritus in the footwells few around, Furschia waking up with a snort as she slammed forward into the dash, and popped the glove compartment open, sending tickets and fish-jerky flying as the stick-on flashing light fell out into her lap.

Once the truck had stopped, Judy frantically fished the phone out from the trash at the bottom of the cab, confirmed what the lab tech had just said, and then scrambled up back into the driver's seat.

"Hraka! _hraka hraka hraka!_ Furschia! Sarge!" she yelled, trying to get the big bear focused on her. Furschia squinted, suspiciously, wondering why she'd been so rudely awoken.

"Sergeant! Sarge, you used to work vice, right? All those years on vice, poor beaten working girls, can you distinguish defensive wounds from self-inflicted? Think before you answer, can you?"

The bear blinked twice, before saying. "In my sleep, why?" Judy hung up the call, not noticing the two missed called from Nick, and showed the bear the photo she'd taken of Mary's arm.

"Defensive." Said the bear, with no hesitation. "Gored with an antler would be my bet, but some good old fashioned closed-fist blows too, why?"

"Hraka! hraka hraka hraka!" said Judy, putting the flashing light on the dash and plugging it in. "Where did that damn reindeer live again?" she said, turning the truck around.

"Somewhere north of 13th street. Take tunnel six under the biome wall…. But in this snow it'll be a traffic nightmare…" grunted the bear, before drifting off into a stupor again.

Judy checked the address in her notebook, got the address and put the pedal to the metal.

She hoped she wasn't too late.

 **Douglas Pipes:** _The carol of the bells (Creepy krampus version)_ **  
**

* * *

Nick, cursing and freezing staggered along thought the white out, following the edges of buildings, brushing up against the wall with his claw-tips to keep his location. He was flying blind. You couldn't see a damn thing in this, and with the ZPD and ambulance giving a pre-recorded message that all their operators were busy due to _unexpected extreme weather_ he hadn't got through to anyone.

So here he was, freezing his tail off, in zero visibility, having just been kidnapped by…

 _What? Insane con artist mad scientist? Even Judy wouldn't believe you. Plus you have $200 in stolen cash on you Nicky… damn._ He realised. _I can tell anyone about this, can I? assuming I don't freeze to death, which is a distressingly real prospect._

He heard a high speed car or truck behind him, and seeing a merest hint of flashing blue, he practically broke into tears and ran out, waving both hands over his head, trying to flag them down. If nothing else, they could get him out of the cold and-

A pastel-blue pickup materialised out of the snow, far closer that he'd expected, and he flinched, throwing his paws up to shield him and standing back on one leg, as it bore down on him.

Wincing, he closed his eyes, and after a second of listening to the _tic tic tic_ of cooling metal and the sound of the engine, he opened his eyes, and his ears went wide with surprise.

"Judy?"

"Nick?" she said, shocked. "Get out of the way!" she yelled, voice distorted thought the glass. She then swore and kicked open the cab door. "Get in! This is serous!" she yelled, as Nick scrabbled up and over mount Furschia to get in to the car.

"What is she doing here?" asked Nick, wedging himself in between the two of them.

"What are _you_ doing here?" yelled Judy.

"I was kidnapped! You?"

"Found a baby in the snow, going to go save him and its mother from violent pervert uncle!" yelled Judy, swinging back onto the road at speed. Nick stared, opening and closing his mouth.

"Okay, that trumps my story. What's the baby's father say to all this?" asked Nick.

"The uncle _is_ the baby's father."

Nick glanced from Judy, to the snowy road, to Judy again. "Ewwwwww! What the hell?"

"I know!" I'm gonna need a thousand showers after this." Muttered Judy, glancing over to Nick. "What's this about a kidnapping?"

" Went to the bank to cash my check, there was a raccoon running a con there. Saw right thought the con, the raccoon saw that I saw, he pulled an gun on me and then… well I'm exercising my right not to self-incriminate, but mostly he used be to carry stuff and distract the guards. Apparently if you push a fox in front of them and have a mammal in uniform say _watch the shifty fox_ they do that to the exclusion of all else."

Judy considered this. "Yeah, up until I met you that would probably have worked on me." She admitted guiltily. She glance over. "I'm sorry you've had such a bad day. You okay?"

"Yeah, just a little shaken. Pride's bruised but it'll heal. God, is this what being a _victim_ of larceny feels like? This is awful. You? Aren't you missing your train?"

"Yeah, but I'm not leaving this poor girl in this." She said, setting her jaw grimly. "Christmas isn't all about me. Let's get this scumbag."

"Right!" said Nick, slamming a fist into his paw, seriously. "Let's kick butt! Erm… he is smaller than us, right?"

"Three-hundred and fifty pound reindeer buck, fully antlered, clearly a nasty one."

"Okay, and our back up?" asked Nick.

Jud held out her airwave com's set "Between the storm and the extra com's traffic from the roving ZPD units, I can't get through. Furschia is out cold, and I've got no weapon other than bear pepper-spray and a tranquiliser auto-injector. Hope he comes in without a fight, otherwise you spray him, and I'll stab him."

"That's an awful plan."

"You have a better one?"

"Poison some cookies and milk?" Nick joked, as they pulled into the tunnel separating Tundra from Savana Central. It was just as well they passed through the tunnel, because otherwise Judy wouldn't have been able to tell that they'd left tundra, in fact it was worse in Savana central: the narrower roads with their smoother asphalt and steep camber designed to deal with monsoon rain turned it into a skating rink once you put a foot or two of snow on the road. Visibility was no better, and the road a lot worse. Judy was obscenely grateful for Furschia's four by for drive and borderline illegal snow chains, as Nick steered her to the right address with his unfailing knowledge of the city.

"You're telling me great white north there doesn't have a gun?" said Nick, jabbing a thumb at Furschia.

"You want to riffle though her clothes to see, be my guest Nick. Best case scenario she kills you. Worst case, she's into it. No weapons in the truck, unless you count that." said Judy, indicated the gift-wrapped knuckle duster.

Nick picked it up. All three of his fox fingers and his thumb and could easily fit through one of the finger holes in it, and it took him both hands to lift it.

"What is this, a damn Bat'leth?" he asked, horrified, before dropping it with a _thump!_ "It's the next apartment on the left." He said, squinting through the thick snow, and holding out a paw. Judy dropped the spray into it.

"Ready to rock?" she asked, hefting an extendable baton and her auto-injector.

"Let's kick some festive butt." He said, grimly, as they kicked the door open while the car stereo blared away.

 **The Uniques:** _Rockin' Rudolph (Ska remix)_

It was bitterly cold outside, the blanket of sub-zero air from over Tundra having bean spread all over the city by the storm. Judy's feet were frozen by the time she got to the steps up to the apartment, a nice 1890's brownstone, and that was following in Nick's wake, otherwise the snow was in drifts as tall as she was.

The building super, a handsome female aardwolf, let her in as soon as he saw the badge. "You here to evacuate vulnerable mammals?"

"At least two." She said, trying to get some feeling back into her feet. "Do you know where the Rangifer apartment is?"

The aardwolf's eyes went wide when she saw the weapons.

"Room 237. Floor two. What's this about?"

"Did have the girl in there ma'am? Mary?" asked Judy.

"Girl? It's a one bedroom studio apartment." Said the super, leading them to the room. "Is this because of the break-in."

"Break in?" asked Judy. The aardwolf nodded.

"Window smashed this morning. Thought I heard someone on the fire-escape, but he seemed cagey about it, wouldn't answer, which was odd, given how paranoid he is about break in's."

"Paranoid." Said Nick, as they hurried up the stairs after the super, who nodded.

"He added an extra lock, only I think he might be kind of stupid at housework, because he fitted the bolt to the outside of the door."

Nick and Judy shared a look. "Break in, or out?" asked Nick sarcastically.

"Either way, smashed window and reported break in? I smell probable cause." Said Judy, reaching the door. "Ma'am, the key if you could be so kind?" Judy asked, pulling the bolt open quietly. The aardwolf busied herself unlocking the door, and then Judy waved her to get well back from the door, before glancing up to Nick, who nodded. She didn't want to bring a civilian into this, but if she had to have a civi watching her back, she wanted someone she trussed.

"Let's do this. _ZPD! POLICE!_ _ **POLICE!**_ _"_ Bellowed Judy, with a shout that would have done credit to a far larger mammal.

Nick was hardly through the door when the stink hit him, piss and blood and fear and baby-milk. Judy was in first, and moved faster that he'd have believed. The apartment itself look tidy enough as far as he could see, normal, it even had a modest aluminium Christmas tree. So much, so normal.

The teenaged deer was cable-tied to the radiator in the corner by one wrist. She looked terrified, wide, rolling eyes. Bloodied, and bruised, but still guarding the baby: shielding it with her body.

Reginn turned just as Judy was shouting at him to put his hands up, with a suddenness that surprised Nick. There was a _clack_ as baton hit antler, and Judy sung the tranquiliser down, but Rangifer tossed his head like a bull, and suddenly Nick was slammed into the railings of the stairs in the hallway, in pain and trapped under something warm and smelling pleasantly of grass, alfalfa and clean fur, and it took him a second to realise he'd thrown Judy into him.

There was a _crunch_ as Rangifer trod on the auto-injector and stinted down the stairs, a pained yelp as he barged past the aardwolf on the stairway, and Nick tried to roll out from under Judy and line up a shot with the spray, but he was gone.

Judy groaned, and rubbed at her wrist. Nick smelt her pain, and moved to help, but she pushed him off. "Check the deer, then after the perp. I'm fine." She said, flexing her hand to check. _Sprained wrist?_ She wasn't sure. It hurt like blazes though.

Nick nodded, and scrabbled off Judy and over to the two deer. The Teen fearfully pulled back from him, but he paused, and grinned, gently, taking care not to show his teeth.

"It's okay, were here to help. Can… can I check the baby is okay?"

The deer stared, frightened and confused, but then she nodded, and let Nick check the saddled calf. No visible injury's, and the thing was bawling his lungs out, so he guessed that was a good sign. He gave it a quick sniff: it needed changing, but other than that he couldn't smell anything wrong. Nick cut the cable-tie with the tiny pen knife on his keys, asked if the deer was okay and then ran back to Judy.

Judy was limping down the stairs; the jolt had set off her gammy leg, from that darn cut in the museum. She picked up her baton, and yelled for the aardwolf to call an ambulance and the ZPD, and without waiting for a reply hobbled after Rangifer. Nick scrambled after her.

The door had been smacked fully off its hinges, and the snow was pouring in. It was pitch black out there now, with a full hollowing blizzard. But the tracks were there, and neither Judy nor Nick were in a giving up mood.

They made it out and after Rangifer, making good speed. Both Nick and Judy could accelerate faster than Rangifer in good conditions, but good condition these were not, and a reindeer could move faster over snow than they ever would. _Especially when it was this deep_ , thought Judy, feeling hemmed in by drifts as tall as her pilling up in the streets, blocking her lines of sight. She saw Rangifer look over his shoulder just as he was disappearing into the snow. Just as he was about to vanish, he made eye contact with her, and grinned.

The guy _grinned_ Judy thought, shocked, as he vanished into a side-ally. _We're going to lose him!_ She thought, with horror. _We're going to lose him!_

 ** _*Smash!*_**

There was a sequence of truly horrible noises coming from the alleyway: snarls, shouts, screams, roars, thuds and crunches. Even despite the cold, Nick and Judy looked at each other with surprised horror, and slogged onwards, wadding through the snow. Fearing what they would find, they hurried around the corner and into the mouth of the alleyway.

Furschia, still in full Santa costume, holding her pants up with one huge paw, was in a towering rage, snarling and repeatedly hitting Rangifer with the lid of a trash can, one of the old fashioned ones, made of fairly heavy gauge galvanized steel sheet, and swearing all the time in a language Judy didn't recognise. It was still defiantly swearing, though, nothing else sounded like that.

 _"_ _Peto vieköön, sinä paska!_ I'll teach you you little sumbag! _Perkele_ _Saatana! Mennä ja haju a Vittu,_ you little _**pervert!** Runkkari!" _ each and every word punctuated with a **_clang_** from the trash-can lid.

"Sergeant!" said Judy, shocked, flabbergasted, horrified, and, maybe, just a little impressed.

Furschia looked up, mid swear, trash can lid raised like a cymbal.

" _Vittu, vituttaa niin vitusti! Saatana!_ Huh? Oh. Judy how are you? And Nick. What's up little _kettu?"_

"You caught the guy!" said Nick, impressed while Judy hurried to cuff the suspect, "You caught our suspect!"

"Suspect?" asked Furschia, "Oh. Right. Yeah, suspect. Sure." She said, swaying slightly. "Suspect. Um… What was he suspected of, exactly?"

Nick stared. "He got his underage niece knocked up. That was the baby you found."

"Seriously?" asked Furschia disgusted, before visibly sagging with relief. "Oh thank god he's a scumbag. Whew! That's a weight of my mind, I can tell you. Oh, for a second there I thought I was in serious trouble! Whoo! That's just as well, I can't get away with another assault charge! Scumbag eh? Well that's good." She said, kicking some snow over the groaning and bleeding mister Rangifer, who Judy noticed had lost most of one antler.

Nick and Judy just stared, horrified.

"Okay I'm gonna say it." Said Nick, speaking in the slow tones of dull horror, eyes wide and ears back.

"If you _didn't_ know who he was, why were you beating seven shades of scat out of him and calling him a pervert? _Why?_ "

Furschia blinked, owlishly, still swaying a bit.

"Okay, I'm going to level with you: I woke up and those beers were going _straight_ through me, and you weren't here, and this alleyway looked like a nice quiet place to take a leak. I was just minding my own business, answering the call of nature, and suddenly this _freak_ comes round the corner and _literally_ catches me with my pants down. I thought he was some sort of a rapist or sex attacker or something!" said Furschia, struggling to keep her pants up: Nick noticed for the first time she'd unbuckled her belt.

"You that someone might try and indecently assault _you?_ " asked Nick, horrified. "You?"

"What are you implying? I'm un-attractive?" said Furschia, brandishing the trash can lid aggressively and snarling, drool beading her fangs and dripping onto the front of her beer stained Santa suit. "We don't make light of sex crimes in the ZPD!"

"No, not at all! Just that you look able to handle yourself!" said Nick, razing both hands defensively and hiding behind Judy.

"And don't you forget it!" growled Furschia. "Suddenly getting half a yard of antler broken off in your arse is no laughing matter, I can tell you." She said, wincing and rubbing at her backside. As she did she slipped slightly in the mix of reindeer blood and snow, and stumbled, staggering into Reginn Rangifer, jolting his broken antler painful and sending him screaming into the dirty snow of the alley again as she knocked him over.

"Opps, sorry. I'd avoid that snow if I were you, buddy." She slurred, trying to regain her balance "I think someone pissed in it." she then turned, and saw Nick and Judy. She seemed surprised to see them there.

"Okay, I feel at this point I ought to say it. Full discourse: I think I'm still kind of drunk."

 **Music plays, Blink 182:** _I won't be home for Christmas_

 ***Cuts to Reginn Rangifer, handcuffed, being loaded into a ZPD riot van by two burly Rhino officers. As the snow falls and the camera pans right, it shows Judy giving a statement to her lieutenant, Nick talking to a police sketch artist and making a composite image of a raccoon on a tablet computer, Mary Rangifer and the baby getting checked over by a paramedic and social worker, all wrapped up in bandages in the back of an ambulance, and Furschia asleep** ** _snoopy_** **style on the roof of her truck, enjoying the snow. ***

Judy's voice over: "So maybe Christmas tales do get darker before the dawn. The scary third act. Maye the wet bandits torment the kid, Hanz looks like he's winning, Scrooge sees the third ghost, you get to see a world where you were never born, but maybe that's what the story needs…

 _In an abandoned warehouse, the Raccoon twisted the last two wires together, and inside the blue and orange shell of the airframe, something extraordinary fired back into life, and he smiled. He was going home._

"You get to go back to how it was before; the McAllister's come Back, the cop and his estranged wife get back together, Scrooge wakes up in his own bed a better man, the wonderful life comes back. The storm breaks, the nights start getting shorter again. No winter lasts for ever.

"You _do_ get to home home for Christmas… in mind, if not, always in body."

It was very late before they had finished giving their statements to the police. They were all cold, and tired, and Judy was fully aware that every train to BunnyBurrow had long since gone.

Nick, tried and beat and slightly ruffled looking came over, and sat by Judy in the back of the ZPD van were she was sitting under a blanket and trying not to cry.

"Hey Carrots, you okay?"

Judy, sniffed, wiped away a tear, and laughed.

"Yep, yep. Just called my folks to wish them a Merry Christmas. Mom was upset to here I won't be back for the day: because of all the snow they've cancelled all trains for Christmas day to clear the tracks. I might be able to get a train in for the day after Christmas… might. Depends on the weather. Enough time to drop off my present's grab some food and then head back again for my shift on the 27th." She said, with a sob. "So much for a family Christmas!"

Nick looked at her, torn by his desire to help, and his desire not to look like a creeper. If he hadn't been madly in love with her, he'd have hugged her comfortingly there and then. As it was, he just shifted a little closer to her, not sure what to say. She reciprocated, sitting close to him, and leaning her head on his chest, his shoulders being too high. He smelt of warm, soft wool, a little of stressed fox, and a lot of sympathy.

It was then that Nick had the idea.

"I'm sorry Carrots, that sucks. Hey, seeing as neither of us has any plans, you want to come and share in a traditional Wilde family Christmas dinner?"

Judy laughed, snottily. "Sure why not? Your place then?"

Nick frowned. "God no. it's wouldn't be like my family if there was any food in our place, would it? Come on, I think I saw one not far from here." He said, getting up and gently leading Judy on. She paused, cocked her head on one side, ear up, and then followed. "One?" she asked.

"One what? Nick, wait up!" she said following.

As promised, it didn't take long. Nick knew the city well, and always noticed when he passed the meeting halls. Judy caught up, and stared.

"Salvation army." Said Nick, standing outside as the snow slowed to a gentle dusting

"Every year' we'd volunteer at one, me and my Mom, these guys or at another similar charity, the denomination and religion varied, the charity never did. We'd spend a good chunk of Christmas eve and most of our Christmas day helping to prepare, cook and then serve up a good Christmas meal for those less fortunate that ourselves. In cynical hindsight, it was a pretty good way for my mom to have an excuse for us to be here and eat with the people here, rather than admitting that we couldn't afford an actual Christmas meal of our own, but I like to think that at least part of it was that being as poor as she was, she genuinely cared about helping others. She had a soft spot for waifs and strays and no-good hopeless causes, explains why she kept me and my father." He joked.

He looked down. Judy had taken his paw.

"That's, that really cool Nick." She said. "I'd love to help out here a bit."

"You sure after today you're not all helping-others tuckered out?" he joked.

Judy, half way to the door, turned, and put both paws on her hips and tapped a foot mock disapprovingly, glaring at him with just the ghost of a smile all over her lips.

"Me? You have met me right? I could do this all day! Now, do you want to save the world and get some food, or is that just me?"

"I could stretch to food." He conceded. "I hear they do a mean nut roast." He said.

His phone _pinged._

He checked it.

"Huh, it's past midnight. Happy Christmas Day, Carrots."

Judy smiled, snow dusting her ears and whiskers. "Huh, my first Christmas in the city. And I did some good today…. I did some good, and caught the bad guy and got to be a real cop… _I am a real cop_." She said, giggling with exhaustion, and she twirled just the once, for the hell of it as the music from in the building opposite drifted down

 **Franky goes to Hollywood:** _The Power of Love._

And as Nick watched the snow settle and melt into the fur of her ears and she smiled into the night, Nick realised that he'd never be happy in his life without her.

And it was killing him, because he couldn't see a way to tell her without driving her away.

 _Crap._ He thought. _I am going to work so hard at fixing my life to be worth her._

 _Well, no time like the present…._

He smiled. "Okay: let's do some good."

 **I hope you have had a very merry Christmas and a Happy New Year with your loved ones, whoever they may be.**

 ** _BunnyRock._**


	7. Case 2 Prologue: Cold Open

**Case Two Prologue: Cold Open.**

"No, No it's simple, listen Carren." said Dana Calopus, Blackbuck antelope, working mom, State Senator and mayoral candidate ( _"I believe in Dana Calopus!")_ as she walked around the kitchen of her summer home, phone wedged between shoulder and face

"No, Listen, let's get this right for the press release. I am not, not have I ever been, a supporter of Dawn Bellweather's, and use these exact words, _Farcical, tragic and horrendous_ plot. Keep to the party line: just because we're members of the same party doesn't mean we have anything to do with her. Keep to the _Black Sheep_ narrative we've been pushing so far: Dawn unfortunately suffered a metal break due to the stresses she was under, expatiated by Leodore's repeated populist stunts and his criminal misbehaviour: whenever pushed remind votes that he was also arrested, and arrested _first._ Bellweather does not represent our party _at all._ Then I'll pause for exactly three breaths, and say _that said_ and start listing Bellwethers successful fiscal policies, if you want jobs and lower taxes vote United Unguents etcetera etcetera, and then hint that whatever mental break she may or may not have suffered, and after all, she's not yet gone on trial or been found sane to try, then that was at least _in part_ a repose to the unfair pressures she had been put under by Lionheart, the radical left, the pred community, millennials , fake news, delete where appropriate." she said, opening the enamelled door of her designer Swedish fridge.

"She's a mentally ill herd outlier, _not_ a terrorist. This isn't the time to discuss terrorism when this is clearly a mental health issue, think of her family, stop prying yada yada yada….and her heinous acts which we utterly condemn, are an exaggerated and unwell response to a real problem, the historical undervaluing of ungulates dispute the fact that we're a driving force in the economy. Herd thinking is consumerist thinking, the economy can only flourish with a real economic driver such as our party at the helm, and hammer home the point that after Lionheart, who we have to paint as the main driver behind Bellwethers breakdown, the last thing the city or nation needs is another swaggering alpha-male apex predictor at the helm. The people are bored of charismatic mega-fauna, Carren, it's time for the little guys to shine!" said Calopus, plonking the bottle of Prosseco on her Italian marble counter-top and reaching to the rack next to the wine-cooler for a glass.

"Think of the little guy, that's the point we need to keep hammering home." she said, popping the cork. "We're five points behind the next centre right party, if we even want in a successful coalition we need to… Yes?" she asked, clasping the phone to her chest and glancing across the kitchen.

Her adopted son, a teenaged Asiatic Cheetah, just outgrowing his mowhawk, paused in the doorway between the kitchen and the unlit small reception room, and blinked owlishly.

"Yes?" she asked, slightly sharply, covering the phone with her hand for a moment.

"The WiFi's down again, or something I can't check Wikipedia and I need to get a reference for my civics-"

"I've told you a hundred times Travis, _Don't_ use Wikipedia as a reference! For haven's sakes, do you think we spend all that money of private schooling so you can get B minuses for insufficient and unvaried references? Use _Encyclopaedia Bactrianus_ online, or better yet, open an _actual book._ We have the Encyclopaedia Bactrianus in your dad's old study, top shelf, camelhair binding. What? No Carren, I was taking to my son. No, the adopted one, stupid: If he's anything like me he'll be an early bloomer but I'm still not telling little Owen to open an encyclopaedia just yet." She said, taking out the baby formula and laying it out next to the prosecco and switching on the bottle-warmer. "Call me old fashioned but I'd like to get him potty trained first….

"No we can't just limit ourselves to personal attacks on Lionheart, it seems petty and worse, it seems like sour grapes now his party is back up in the polls; we need to be able to _blame_ him for something or we'll get decimated after the muck Bellwether dragged us through-"

"Re-setting the router doesn't do anything!" yelled Travis, from the other room. "Is the Broadband even working?"

"One, don't interrupt me when I'm on a business call Travis! For goodness sakes how many times, and two, try the booster in the study, and while you're there open a book! Kids now a days…. They want everything on a plate for them." Dana paused, as her mobile pinged and the _incoming call_ screen flashed up. She glanced at it, and raised an eyebrow and curled a lip. "Humph, speaking of which Carrol, I'm going to have to put you on hold. Soon to be ex-husband strikes again. Yes?" she said, holding the phone out in front of her as she took the video call.

Dr Mortimer Calopus MD looked about as tired and miserable as a mammal facing five-figure alimony charges in his near future would, and glared at his wife from behind the glass desk in his surgery as drummed his fingers on the table.

"So, is cutting off the land-line another way to avoid talking to me and my lawyers, or did you just accidentally crash your broomstick into the phone cables?"

"What, what are you blithering on about? I'm good, by the way."

"The phones, I've been trying to call you for two hours about this final separation agreement, if you think you're getting 60% of _patent rights_ you're as out of your mind as the Sheep."

Dana flushed, angry and embarrassed. "God, why does everything have to be political with you! The Phones must be on the fritz again, the internet is playing up. You're fault for buying this wretched overlarge pile in the sticks!"

"Seventy minutes to an hour to Savana central station is hardly the sticks. And _you_ wanted somewhere out of the city for our kids to-"

"And If you'd read the pre-nup you'd have noticed that intellectual property was specifically included under held assets. Then again for you to notice I'd have had to get them to print it on that Floozy nurse's panties…"

"Dr Clarkei is a well-respected obstetrics specialist -"

"Oh I'm sure she's _quite_ the expert in ungulate reproductive biology, I got a good look at that when I found her and you researching it in the laundry room! Your _many_ little experiments in competitive lekking strategies aside, in between your various romantic adventures you've hit upon a potentially highly profitable medical technique, and if you think I'm letting you squirrel it away with all the other assets you're hiding from me-"

Mortimer slapped the desk, making a hollow ringing sound. "Dammit Dana, I developed that technique so that you and I could finally have a child that was biologically our own, and now you want to take full custody _and_ the science away from me? You evil-"

"Lower. Your. _Voice._ Control that tone, mister! The infidelity clause is cast iron, so you'll shut up, adopt the Lordosis position, and take it for a change. As for custody, I don't want the baby exposed to you or your whores. I'll stretch to joint custody with Travis if you agree to allow me control over his schooling, god's knows for some reason the kid is still somewhat fond of you, but the rest is final. You get forty percent of you assets. Given you only ever put twenty percent into this marriage, I call that a more that fair deal. Now if you'll excuse me doctor, I'm sure you have a physical exam to be performing on some poor gormless tart, I have an election to win."

"Dana, I promise, I'll make you regret this, like I told you! I'll find a way to hurt you see if I don't-"

Dana Calopus hung up on him, and went back to the other conversation with a bright, breezy tone and forced smile. "Sorry Carren, just taking out the trash. So, we're all good for the first televised debate… u-huh…" she said, checking that the milk was the right temperature.

"U-huh? No. No! No, _listen_ : If we're going to put a mammal in the audience to ask that just so I can respond with our killer tax strategy, make it a pred. Or better, a twofer. I don't know, find some lion with the gay pride logo shaved into their pelt, or a one-legged lesbian bear in a wheelchair. We already _have_ the sheep vote, don't put another herbivore up there wearing a baseball cap with my name on it to pitch the question, make it look like we're appealing to the widest possible audience even if about half of then secretly hate our guts…" she said, pressing the intercom button, before remembering that the phone system was down. She swore.

"Kamila! _Kamila, kitchen!_ Okay, Carren, run the transcript we've agreed past the focus groups and get me the numbers in the morning, we can't avoid any slip up's in this debate. Okay, bye! Bye bye bye! What took you?" she asked, as the hutia _Au Pair_ bustled in

"I was in the study helping Travis with his-"

"Travis is fourteen and already better academically qualified than you are, leave him be. Now, I want proper maternal bonding so once he's been changed _I_ want to feed the baby, so, one's he's cleaned up and… Kamila, where is Owen?"

Kamila frowned. "Owen?"

Dana put both hands on her hips. "Yes, Kamila, Owen. Somewhat short? Not overly talkative, unless you count screaming? Not yet weened onto solids? _Owen!_ "

Kamila looked momentarily panicked. "I thought you had the baby in here with you!"

"Oh, for pity's sakes, never mind!" she said, storming up into the hallway and up the stairs, a bottle in each hand. "I'll do it myself, like everything else around here!" she said, pushing open the doors to the first floor nursery.

The first thing she noticed was the damp, chill air coming off the lake, which made her shiver. "Kamila, it's bloody freezing in here! When was the last time you checked the temperature? Honestly, if he catches anything…."

It was then that the curtain moved, and Dana Calopus noticed that the French window to the patio was ajar. Shrugging, she moved to push it shut, and then went over to the hypo-allergenic organically-sourced hardwood bassinet.

"And how's my best boy today?" she asked, in the awful sing song voice that babies somehow inexplicably inflict on otherwise sensible adults.

The bassinet was empty.

There are certain fears that are inherently childish: monsters under the bed. The horror that is Santa Claus when you really think about it. Celery. And then there are the fears that appeal equally to adults and children. Death. Loss of small exterminates, particularly eyes or teeth, social humiliation. Clowns.

And then, at the far side of that Ven diagram are the fears that only send shivers down the spines of adults, and in the centre of that, the smaller circle of the fears that only parents can experience.

The Crib was empty, and behind Dana Calopus, something _moved._

She screamed, and turned, reflexively throwing the bottle at head height snarling defiance and fear and rage as the bottle hit the target square on.

...and smashed against he wall. The moving figure had been the drapes, blowing in the wind from the window.

Which had somehow opened itself again.

The lock had been smashed, she saw, from the outside.

Running out into the blue of the blustery night as the waves on the lake hissed and boomed, Dana Calopus ran onto the large balcony that ran around the entire lake-side face of the house like a veranda, and fumbled, panicking, for the switch that turned on the floodlights.

When they clicked on, there was no sign of her baby, no matter how hard she looked. All she found was the think bundle of wall-mounted cables that carried her internet and phone cables into the house, neatly cut, and the letter wedged in the freshly sniped plastic like bone in a wound.

 **Earning the badge, case two: family matters.**

"Publicly withdraw yourself from the mayoral race and resign as state senator, _and_ have two million dollars in unmarked bills ready for collection. Consider it a donation to a worthier political cause. Do both within two weeks. Further instructions will follow." Said Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez, reading out loud through the transparent evidence bag as she stood on the veranda, the morning sunlight reflecting of the lake and warming her back.

"Well, you can hardly fault them on their ambition." Muttered ZG, turning the evidence over in her hands, thoughtfully.

"Is this a rutting joke to you?" snarled Dana Calopus, Blackbuck antelope, working mom, State Senator and near out of her mind with fear and worry ( _"I believe in Dana Calopus!")_ and sleep deprivation _._

"My son has been kidnapped, and do you bring him back? No, you _congratulate them on their ambition!?_ Where the hell do you get off? I could have you fired, you know!"

"True, probably. I'm not well liked in the Bureau, but then if that happened you'd just have this pack of idiots looking for your baby, and I doubt you want that." said ZG leaning on the balcony rail, which was a little too tall for her, and looking over the gardens and lake as she lit her first menthol of the day and took a moment to savour the experience, while below her a dozen federal forensic staff in disposable paper suits very slowly and toughly ruined a very expensive garden looking for clues. There was even one guy just hitting bushes with a stick to see what fell out of them.

 _Why do we always do that? You could count the number of times we've found anything other than bird-nests on one paw?_ Thought ZG. The agent in question was a mongoose, though _and frankly I could go for some eggs too right about now._

"Not well liked, you surprise me!" snarled Calopus, on the verge of tears. "What did you do, spray the wrong person?"

ZG decided not to dignify that with an answer, but made the damn woman wait a moment longer. To her surprise, she apologised.

"I'm sorry, that was beneath me. God, I'm at my wits end: I've not slept or eaten, I can't even hold down water… what if something happens to him, what if something bad has _already_ happened to him?" she said, crying in earnest now. "What if he's already dea-"

"In cases like these it's in no-ones interest to harm the child, at least not early on." Said ZG, cutting through the tears like a lightsabre. No one wanted you to look weak in this situation, you needed to be strong for them, and give the impression that law enforcement was completely in control, even when you weren't.

 _Especially when you're not_. She thought. They had councilors and family liaison agents to be the designated crying-on shoulders, but victims expected their special agents to be tough, dispassionate and hard-nosed, and if you weren't they raged at the perceived weakness. It was cruel, but it got the job done with far less shouting, shooting and suing. She smoked and maintained a cool, disinterested stare until the state senator stopped snuffling, and then handed her a tissue.

"You say when you unfolded the note you found a strip of baby's clothing and a fur sample?" she asked, as the senator reluctantly took the proffered hanky.

"Yes, and I can spare you're lab the work, they were from Owen, I make a point to dress him myself, early bonding … I… I never used to let the au pair do it and, oh god."

"The fact they were included means that they want you to know that they have the child alive." Said ZG, watching the antelope's face carefully. "There's no reason to think that they might have come to harm." She said, throwing her what comfort she could give from behind her mask.

Calopus nodded, eager to believe, and blew her nose, nastily. ZG ignored the trumpeting, an squatted down to look at the cut wires.

"They cut low enough to get internet and phones at once, which means they knew or suspected that your CCTV was an image over IP system. Not unusual, if you get photos of the camera, you can zoogle the brand and find how it works. Do you keep a copy on-site? Like a hard drive?"

Calopus snorted, and hissed. "My husband did. But he took his desktop computer when he moved out. Ex-husband really. "

ZG raised an eyebrow at that. "Affable, no-blame divorce?" she asked.

"I'd repossess his spine if I thought he had one, and take his genitals to burn ritualistically on a fire, but I don't know where they've been. So about average, you could say."

"Any issues with custody?" asked ZG, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

"Why? You don't think he had something to do with this? This is clearly political, look at the demands, you stupid bint, they're out to sabotage the mayoral race!"

ZG tightened her jaw, but stood up calmly. It wasn't like she didn't hear worse than _bint_ every day. _Usually it's a word one letter longer. And one I think we both earned._

"The politics could be a distraction to divert us from financial motive. I see two million reasons to stage this kidnap right here." She said, tapping the letter. "If they were purely political, why include the demand for cash? Or both stated motives might be there to throw us of a third one, like custody. Frankly, all a letter like this really tells us is that the kidnapper can type four sentences, I'd not read too much into this.

"We'll prepare the money and tap the phones for a trace, and run forensics and chase up your husband and any known political enemies of yours." said ZG leaning on the balcony. " Dot the I's, and cross the T's and get ready to catch them one way or another when they contact you with further instructions. Our usual tried and tested playbook. And we'll get the ZPD to do the same: kidnapping is a federal case, has been since the Lindbergh baby, but a second pair of eyes never hurts…"

"No! I refuse to have this leaked to the media, not with the mayoral election this close!" snapped Calopus. "ever since Lionheart went down, the ZPD has been leaking like a sieve, I'll not allow it!"

That much was true, thought ZG bitterly. Cops love to gossip, and journalists know this. You could generally keep operation details of active cases quiet, but once celebrities or politicians became involved, goodbye case, hello contaminated jury pool. That one of the reason why the feds had to do the heavy lifting fighting the mob: it wasn't just corruption, it was that cops that have lived in the same city all their lives tell people, who tell their friends who tell _their_ friends, and then pretty soon some poor police informant has a bullet sandwich delivered to him hot and fresh.

 _I mean, the only reasons were able to keep the fact that SafetyNet doesn't work quiet, was that only a pawfull of mammals outside of the federal government ever knew._

 _Ah. That's an Idea._

"Well, we need to get the ZPD involved anyway to avoid jurisdictional issues and provide local logistics." said ZG, weighing the idea. "But as it happens, I do know of a way to at least minimize ZPD involvement: we have recently used a specialist private contractor attached to the ZPD in an case where extreme sensitivity was required: one signed up to the relevant federal non-disclosure and official secret legislation. One with no known links to the police or press, and even better, their ZPD handler, also fully vetted for secure information, has only just moved to the city and has no links to the press here. In fact, given that the only time they ever made a statement to the press it went south, and personally emotionally hurt them, we can assume compliance on their part too." She took another drag.

"And what's more, I personally trust them to do the right thing, not the easy thing." Said ZG

"Anything to get my baby back." Growled Calopus. "But they had better not be some two-bit private detectives or psychics or any of that bull. The child of the next mayor of zootopia is at risk, I expect the best of the best, or some will suffer for it!"

"Don't worry." Said Special Agent Zorilla-Gutiérrez "They are the best, of the best, of the best."

 ***Cut to Nick and Judy at a café table eating lunch. Judy has a big pot of bright green grass-and-kale silage in one paw and coffee in the other, and is trying to climb up into a seat designed for a far taller mammal. As Nick watches, she starts to over-balance, desperately tires to juggle her stuff to stay balanced, narrowly avoid falling off the chair backwards, saves it, and then, once stable, relaxes, balances her food safely in one paw, and tries to pull the chair closer in to the table.**

 **She then slips off the** ** _front_** **of the chair, and suddenly disappears under the table. Nick laughs so hard he sprays falafel everywhere. Judy re-appears, looking shocked, covered in green goo from ears to shoulder, and soaking wet. ***

"Bwahahahaha! Ahahaha… you got a little something there, Carrots!"

Judy glared at Nick and then, drumming fingers on table top, broke into the ghost of a of a sardonic smile.

"Hey Nick, didn't you have a psychiatrist's appointment at ten-to-one?"

"No" said Nick, still smiling smugly. "My next appointment is on Wednesday, oh masterful detective."

"U-huh? Nick? It _is_ Wednesday."

Nick shot up, checked his phone, and then shot up some more.

"Oh god, I am so late! Why didn't you tell me? Gods, why do I always lose track of what day of the week it is over the holidays? Ahhhhhhh!" he grabbed his stuff, and ran off.

A second latter, he re-appeared, running the other direction and Dopplering. "And it's actually this way. Oh god, I'm not ready to be an adult carrots! Why? Just _whhhhhhhhy?_ "

As Judy watched Nick go, she smiled to herself quietly, and was still doing so when her phone _pinged!_

She looked down at it, and then cocked her head on one side.

"Ah." She said to no-one. "Looks like we've got a case."

 **To be continued.**

 **Note: sorry for the irregular update, I'm trying to experiment with breaking this up into smaller chapters. Tell me how this goes, for style and read-ability. BunnyRock.**


	8. Case2 Part one: Contractors

**Earning the badge, case two: family matters.**

Part one: Contractors.

In the Psychiatrists office Nick lay back and stared at the ceiling, feeling that while good, the music was a little too upbeat for what he was feeling.

 **UB40 & Pato Banton:** _Baby Come Back_

"… and that's more or less how it happened."

The shrink stared, appalled.

"You robbed a _hospital?"_

"I was forced to! At gunpoint! You think that's how I wanted to spend my holidays? The guy had what I strongly suspect was a fuel rod in a can, I wasn't going to argue with him! I… Christ, I feel terrible about that."

"And they haven't caught him?"

"You're kidding? A, no one believed me, and B, The snow we had and the airports in full lockdown? The ZPD couldn't even spare anyone to look for two days. Got clean away."

"U-huh? And how does that make you feel? All this must have been very traumatic for you."

Nick grunted, and then blew air past his teeth in a frustrated sigh. "Doc, I used to work on and off for Mr Big, I've had guns pointed at me before. Bellwether cornered me last year and shot me with what she thought was Nighthowler, thinking that I'd eat Judy alive and then get shot by the ZPD first responders, and then she stayed to _watch._ Trust me, this doesn't even get close to traumatising me. Oh, I've got a burse the exact size and shape of a gun butt in the small of my back, but mostly all that got hurt was my pride. It's not that its…. Uggg, this is going to sound so narcissistic but it's just he was a _better con artist_ than me! Near perfect Bavarian Fire drill, no props, no pre-planning, just ad-libed the whole thing as he went along and used whatever he found, including me, to make himself seem more convincing and relied on sheer gall to fool everyone! I mean, he was just so good at it, and there was nothing I could do to derail him. I feel like he ate my lunch, and for a canine that's serious business."

"You've never been a victim of crime before?"

"Hell no, I grew up in the triangle: I'd got mugged twice before I hit seventeen, and Mr Big…. I didn't get into working for him by choice, there are neighbourhoods where exploitation by organized crime is just something you have to live with. It's just…. Mugging, burglary, organised crime…. Those are all the _bad_ sorts of crime! The sort that involves guns and knives and property damage. Con artistry, that's _my_ type of crime, and it made me feel like a complete idiot to be on the receiving end of it! I feel…. Stupid, and slow, and dull and…. used. Frightened and angry and _used._ God, this feels just awful!" said Nick, placing both paws on his muzzle, and flattening out his ears, he then glanced over at the shrink.

"Did I do this to people? Did I make them feel like _this!?"_

"Probably. Almost certainly, in fact. Why Nick, did you have some delusion that what you did was a victimless crime?"

"Well, no… but I thought that this was something that only _idiots_ ended up a victim of, when suddenly you find yourself getting pulled into a con, it makes you feel a fool! And I knew it was happening and I couldn't do anything to stop it, and that made it so much worse! How, how do people cope with this? How do they trust people again after this crud?"

"Therapy."

"Says the guy selling therapy."

"We're all selling some con or another Nick, but yes: People tend to feel just as bad, or even worse, when they've been a victim of a con than if they'd been targeted by violent crime. Violent crime breeds fear of danger from others, but being the victim of a con causes far more intimate trust issues at it typically makes people doubt other mammal's motives for being nice. The truth is, Nick, that while selling people ice water at a ridiculous mark up might seem innocuous enough, some of the other things you've admitted that you've done would really really shake people once they realise that they've been the victims of a trick. Even the ones that seem petty or even funny at the time."

"Uggg, you mean like the laundry thing?"

 ***flashback cut***

Close up of Nick's finger ringing a doorbell, door opened by a friendly looking groundhog.

Nick grins, and scratches ears looking confused, an consulting his phone before peering at the house number. "Hi, I'm sorry, I'm not sure if I have the right address, but are you the guys selling the washing machine online?"

"Sure! Come on in, it's in the utility room, through here."

*Cut to Nick, inspecting a washing machine.*

"Well, the price is more than fair," said Nick. " But, uh, trying to put this nicely but I've been stiffed a few times in online sales before, and I don't want to be rude, but do you mind if a try it out before I buy it?"

"Sure, you want me to throw a towel in there or something….."

"Actually, I've got a sack of laundry in my car, hey, could I maybe borrow a tide pod or something….."

*Cut to Nick and the Groundhog watching the washing machine cycle. The groundhog scratches the side of his head.*

"You, you want a coffee or something?"

"Thanks, that would be nice." Said Nick.

*Cut to Nick unloading his wet laundry into a sack*

"Well, I'm sold. This looks like _exactly_ the sort of thing I was after. " sad Nick. " Just let me get my wallet from my car…."

*Cut to Nick on the bus, holding his still wet sack of laundry on one shoulder and paying with his phone while outof the window the groundhog angrily chasses after the bus before falling behind. Eventually long, long after he's outpaced the groundhog and is in a different part of the city, Nick hits the bus's stop button, and steps out on the the street, walks half a block, hides his bag of laundry under a car and then checks an address on his phone and rings the doorbell.

The door opens, and Nick scratches an ear, looking apologetic and slightly confused.

"Hi, sorry to bother you, not sure if I have the right address, are you the lady selling the tumble dryer?"

"Sure! Come on in. Can I get you a coffee?"

Nick grins. "Thanks, that would be nice."

 ***Flashback ends.***

"Oh god, I saved so much compared to the coin laundromat." Muttered Nick, wrinkling his muzzle, ears down. " Doc, Am I a bad person?"

"Yes." Said the shrink, disinterestedly.

Nick made a face. "You didn't even hesitate there!"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself Nick, ninety plus per cent of mammals are bad people, that's why I'm never out of business. You, at least, are in the minority who are actively trying to improve themselves. Besides, Mr Maulwurf, it's not like you've ever done anything really bad, like identity theft." He said, doodling.

"Well I guess… wait, that's the bad one?" asked Nick, somewhat nervously.

"Umm, duh and or hello? It's stealing someone's identity, that really, _really_ psychologically hurts, more than most of the others. Other than clairvoyants It's about the lowest con that's out there in terms of psychological damage."

"Oh." Said Nick, trying not to think of the amicable blind little mole who was currently sitting in the waiting room and probably reading old National Geographic's for the topless tribes while Nick used up the therapy session he'd paid for. "So, Kind of a scummy thing to do?"

"Absolutely. 100%." said the Psychiatrist. "And not to sound smug, but I did bring this up last session." Said the shrink, doodling. "and what did you say, Nick?"

Nick swore, and buried his face in his paws.

"Sorry, what was that, didn't quite catch that?" said the shrink, sarcastically, cupping A paw to where his ear would have been.

"I said." Said Nick, muffled as he wasn't taking his paws of his snout for this. "That you rationalize it: it's nothing personal, it's just a con."

"Yeah, you did. So here what I'm telling you, Nick, you can't he half a cop and half a con artists, and you can't try and help people _and_ turn a blind eye to how you hurt them. And I can't tell you which of them to pick, mate, you're going to have to decide which life is going to make you completer, and which one you need to let fall by the wayside. I can't tell you which life to pick, but you do _have_ to pick, Nick. Can you sit with someone, in a room like we are now talking about someone's deepest insecurities, knowing that you're going to use everything they say against them and feel okay with that and keep coning them to their face, or are you going dig deep and actually _help_ some mammals, starting with yourself?

"Because I'll tell you this, Nick, one mammal who owes their living to other mammals' pain and stupidity to another, it always _feels_ personal, and you're either okay with that or you're not. And if you don't decide, life has a way of deciding for you."

Nick and the Platypus sat there for a long moment, glancing at each other, before the Platypus sighed, and clicked his pen, putting his doodle pad down.

"And that's time. Okay Nick clear off. Keep writing the blog and see you next session. Oh, and don't think I've forgotten about Judy or your baggage with your parents: just because you somehow managed to get involved in something ever crazier than usual you don't get a free pass on your existing romantic or family issues: throwing extra chickens in the air doesn't mean that the existing ones won't come back to roost."

"Doc, seriously, Chickens? Triger warning! I _am_ a fox after all." Said Nick, jokingly as he walked out of the room and, as surreptitiously as possible shut the door behind him.

After a moment a vulpine snout poked through the bead curtain that separated Carrol's reception area from the wanting room, as Nick peeked thought the veil.

Mr Maulwurf was snoring peacefully, National Geographic draped over his snout.

Nick blew out a relived sigh, and started to skulk out of the room on tiptoe. He'd nearly made it past the sleeping mole when the carrot pen Judy had given him, hanging half out of his shirt pocket caught on one of the chains of beads and, tugging on it it, snapped the thread.

 _Snap!_

 _Plink Plink plinkplinkplink….. WOOSH!_

Nick froze as a hundred glass beads tumbled onto the limnonym behind him, making a noise like one of those thinks you turn upside-down to make unconvincing rain-sounds at grade school, and the mole woke up with a snort, and glanced over the glossy pages of the magazine.

"Carlos?" said the elderly Mole, as Nick froze up, snapped nylon fishing line from the bead curtain draped over his muzzle like the world's longest Fu Manchu moustache, before blowing it of his muzzle with a _Huff_ out of the side of his mouth, before completely unconsciously sliding into hustler mode as decades of practice kicked in and he automatically moved to diffuse the situation.

"Mister Maulwurf! What a _pleasure_ to see you!" said Nick, with completely convincing sincerity that came as naturally as breathing. "And how are you today?"

"Carlos, I've been wanting here for over an hour-"

"And patience is indeed the prince of virtues, but I'm afraid the doctor is dealing with a _very_ unstable patent right now-" said Nick "and I'm afraid we'll have to reschedule, just one more time…."

The raised a claw indignity, about to object, and then visibly drooped as he decided it wasn't worth it. _I guess that's why con-mammals traditionally target the elderly and confused, they tend to back down from confrontation even when it's obvious something's up._ Thought the part of Nick that wasn't maintaining that professional and helpful façade, horrified with himself. _I need to stop this, oh gods, this… this isn't me.  
_  
But it was him, and that's why his mask didn't falter no matter how much he hated himself for it.

"So…. How about we re-schedule for next Tuesday?" said Nick, wringing his paws together with keen and eager energy, his smile genuine and reaching his eyes.

"Tuesday?" muttered the mole, put out an uncertain. "I'm, I'm not sure I can make Tuesday. I'm at a meet-up…."

"Well, if and when you think of a time," said Nick, automatically pulling a random business card out of the two-dozen in this back pocket "You just call that number and-"

" don't think the number on that card is right, last time I tried calling it I seemed to get some police officer and-"

"yes yes yes, we've been having all sorts of trouble with the phone company, but no, trust me, it'll sort _all_ this out." Said Nick, not realising how true that statement was. "Okay?" he said, drooping a paw re-assumingly over the moles shoulders as he walked the mole out the door with him.

"Okay, I guess." Said the Mole, squinting at the Business card, while Nick slinked off, thinking about how he needed to stop doing this.  
 _Oh god, the shrink is right. I can't go round fixing crimes half the day and commuting class a felonies the rest. I mean, yeah,_ _ **technically**_ _I can, I just_ **did** , _but I feel lousy about it. Stretched, worn thin._

Schrödinger fox.

Thought Nick. _Trapped in a box, about to get gassed, and until an outside force acts on it and collapses the wave space both an upstanding member of society and police consultant and an active identity thief._

"But it's okay." Said Nick, to himself. "All I have to do is sort my life out, quit this, and hope that in the mean-time nothing happens to collapse the wave-space."

Behind him, the real Mr Maulwurf shrugged and tucked the new business card, that Nick had handed him completely at random, back into his wallet behind his Buy N' large loyalty card, obscuring the ZPD crest. And the wave space wobbled.

* * *

Officer Judy Hopps, uniform only slightly green from silage, waved goodbye to Francine as she stomped off to the cells with the public order offence that they'd picked up on morning patrol, checked the time on her phone, and realising that she'd got an hour to kill before deployments, headed off to the ZPD gym for a forty minuet run, planning to shower and change into a clean uniform before she got her new caseload that afternoon.

*Montage of Judy in gym gear on treadmill running as she dictates her report on the morning's arrest into a blue-fang headset as she put on some jogging music on her MyPod nano, picking something familiar to help her relax*

 **P!nk:** _Raise your Glass_

She still had music playing out of the earphones dangling loosely around her neck when she finished and handed the treadmill over to the next cop, a female African wild-dog she vaguely recognised, wearing the plain grey tee from Special Weapons in preference to the blue of a standard ZPD uniform. The tall handsome bitch nodded to Judy as Judy picked up her towel, and then to her surprise handed her bottle of water.

"Hopps, right? Precinct one, with Francine?"

"yes…. Ma'am." She added, spotting sergeant's stripes. The sergeant snorted, sounding amused.

"Don't call me Ma'am, I work for a living. Sergeant or Sarge. I hear that that rabble out there are your fault?" said the sergeant, half jokingly as she hid the treadmill at a fast lopping pace that looked so effortless that Judy could have _killed_ for it. "I swear, it was bad enough with just the morons in the ZPD, you bring another pack in and it's only a matter of time before we all go deaf from howling, assuming they don't just cut to the chase and try to scent-mark the building in two."

Judy wrinkled her nose, confused. The sergeant snorted and jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the main atrium, and then immediately forgot that Judy was there as she spotted a Spotted hyena in the same SWAT grey grab the treadmill next to her and, maintaining eye contact with the sergeant, turn the speed up to one notch higher than the Sergeant in what must have constituted a clear challenge.

Judy, turning her back on SWAT's attempts to out-apex-predator each other, and went to crack the door between the gym and the atrium open and peer out, curious.

There had to be at least a hundred wolves in the atrium, not of itself unusual given how may worked in the ZPD, but none of these were in police uniform. In fact, they all seemed to be in identical black V-necks and khaki combat trousers that made Judy think of bouncers, or the guys that leafleted for gym membership. Confused, she walked out into the atrium, rubbing at her ears with the towel and trying to ignore the Kelly Clarkson playing tinnily from the swinging earphones as she wandered through the crowd towards the front desk. After a moment she noticed she was getting some hostile looks from the wolves, and one in-fact sniffed, and did a visible double-take on catching her scent, and it was only then as he turned towards her that she recognised him.

 _Oh god…. Him? What on Frith's earth?_

Realising that she was unarmed and wearing little more than running shorts, her MyPod and a ZPD issue tube-top, Judy somewhat nervously adjusted the towel over her shoulders and decided that the best course of action was to just act confident and not think about how wolves could famously smell fear and _definitely_ not think about the circumstance under which she' met these guys before. So head held high, she headed for Clawhauser's desk like it was an island in shark infested water. She most defiantly did not run, but she wouldn't say that her pace was casual either as she ducked inside the shelter it represented.

Clawhauser, typically, was entirely unaware of the hostile vibe. I fact, he was rather predictably chatting with one of the wolves on his favourite subject.

"No, I mean the _Laundry Service_ Album was clearly Gazelle's best work up until the self-titled album!"

The wolf leaning on the front desk snorted

"Pffff, and they say cats have natural rhythm it's clearly-"

"Let me guess, _She Wolf?"_ joked Clawhauser, leaning both elbows on the desk and cradling his chin in his hands, tail swaying lazily.

"I…. I wasn't _necessarily_ going to say that." said the wolf, looking embarrassed. He then sniffed, and looked down suddenly, directly at Judy. Clawhauser finally noticed she was there.

"Oh, hey there Hopps, hey , let me introduce these guys, this is Larry Ulveflokk, from Backwoods Private Security. He's-"

"A mercenary. We've met." Said a voice from directly behind Judy, as Nick arrived for the day's meeting with Bogo and moved to flank Judy protectively, eyes narrowing at the larger canine as her MyPod played to itself

 **Judy's Work-out playlist- Speed Machine :** _Confrontation_

"Cliffside asylum, right? One of mayor Lionheart's famous Timberwolves." Said Nick, with Mock casualness, not quite able to hide the distain in his voice, and his eyes flattened and his tail fluffed up defensively. "kidnaping and guarding the mammals that went savage, civil rights abuses, chasing me and Judy with Tasers, you know, the usual Mercenary stuff."

"Private Security Contractor." Corrected the wolf, mildly. "And we have in the past taken many contracts from governmental and non-governmental actors, both domestic and foreign."

"Yeah, because that _doesn't_ make you sound like a mercenary, am I right? Jesus, you say that like when you not knocking over small democratically elected governments in Latin America or _filling a spooky abandoned hospital with kidnapped mammals,_ you're somewhere on a beach with Hans Gruber, sipping mai-tai's and earning 20%." Said Nick.

The wolf actually laughed, to Judy's surprise. "Oh god, I wish. That's the first sign that you're getting old, you re-watch Die-hard and what strikes you is what it would be like to have the economy like that again! And the Cliffside job was just some basic enhanced security. Spooky hospital." He said, leading his elbows on the counter top in order to squint down at Nick and Judy and accentuate his height advantage over them, and grinning, or at least, Judy thought un-easily, flashing his teeth. "You make it sound like a Scooby-Doo episode!"

"Yeah, and you would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for us meddling kids." Said Judy quietly, narrowing her eyes and staring him down. "Right Nick?" she said, wondering what exactly would have happened to them if she hadn't gotten them out of there. _Lionheart didn't seem like the type to kill us in cold blood, but his plan, which he genuinely seemed to believe was necessary to save the city, could never have worked if he'd let us out of there alive, so best case scenario the wolves pump us both full of drugs and I wake up in an asylum years later with no idea who I am._ Worst case, and she could see this clearly looking into the wolf's eyes, Lionheart just wouldn't ask what happed to them so long as they were gone….

Nick grunted, clearly following a similar line of reasoning to her.

"Right. And I particularly like the bit when we pulled the mask of in the end and it turned out to be creepy old Miss Bellwether, the owner of the haunted Amusement park. So, what's the pleasure of your company for? Because, and this is just a guess, but I'd have thought given the whole kidnapping, illegal imprisonment and the bit where you burst in on us with unregistered Tasers and forced me to flush myself down a toilet to escape I would have guesses that what you'd have been up to since we last met included some serious prison time, right?" said Nick. "You here to turn yourself in?"

The wolf paused, an then grinned. "You don't _know?_ Oh, well this is classic." Larry said, leaning in closer, until Judy could feel his breath on her whiskers "No, thing is, since you busted Bellwether, honey-bun, and found out about this _Nighthowler_ drug , the demand for drug-sniffing trained wolves had been through the roof, and when were all in the county jail, wanting to be charged over the Cliffside thing when suddenly Governor Noble and Congresmammal Ysengrim and the District attorney came and offered us a _great_ offer: full immunity to all charges if we testify against Lionheart and accept a contract to provide an extra hundred and fifty drug sniffing wolves for the duration of the emergency. See, it looks like the current crop of ZDP graduates just can't cut it." He said, glancing meaningfully at Judy. "So we're here to lend a paw and pick up the slack." He said. His tone was pleasant and conversationally, even jolly, and none of the words he said were nasty, but the implication was clear: _We're not even cops, but were more cop that you, bunny_ and it was all Judy could do not to grind her teeth, and she felt Nick stiffen and stand up taller with rage behind her. Larry noticed, and just smiled. He wasn't unpleasant, but he was dismissive and his jolliness made that sting worse, like every athletics-scholarship fratboy jerk Jock she'd ever known.

"Well, given it's only for the duration of the emergency, it shouldn't take you too long before you can start trying to get yourself back into a prison cell again, Mister Ulveflokk." she said, smiling back at him with a smile just as fake as his.

"One with a toilet too small to flush yourself in. You know, unless that's what you're into. Let's not kink-shame." Added Nick. "No, wait, that was rude of me: you're a Timber wolf: if you flush yourself in the toilet, what will you have to drink out of?"

Larry barked laughter, once. "Nice one, fox! You should be a comedian. As opposed to… well… whatever it is you _think_ you are." He said, signing for a box of ZPD consultants badges from Clawhauser and, eyes on Nick, tossing the box to another wolf who started to hand out the badge Nick had worked so hard to earn like candy.

"And besides, given there is this wild rumour starting to circulate that the _SafetyNet_ system isn't as fool proof as it should be…" he said, eyeing up Nick and Judy, clearly fishing for information. "Who know how long that temporary state of emergency could last?"

He said, glancing from Nick, to Judy, to Clawhauser. "But…. you three wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

Judy glared, and pushed ahead of Nick and Clawhauser before either of them could give anything away.

" _Goodbye,_ Mister Ulveflokk. Go fish somewhere else."

"Or failing that go play fetch." Said Nick, making a ball-throwing gesture. The wolf glared.

"Dude, the invisible ball fake out? Not cool, dog, not cool. Doing that to a fellow canine? This isn't third grade, no one is going to fall for that-"

There was a loud _BONK!_ sound behind them as one of the v-kecked wolves looked up from the consultants badge in his hands, saw Nick make the throwing gesture and subconsciously turned his head to follow the gesture, jumped up extrapolating, and ran straight into the glass doors of the building. The white wolf staggered back, clutching his muzzle.

"Ow… Jesus my Nose! Goddammit!"

Larry looked from this, then back over to Nick Judy and Clawhauser, and to be fair, even Nick looked a little shocked that that had actually worked. Larry made a two-finger pointing gesture at Nick.

"Not cool, bro. Well, guys I'll see you guys around. Give me a yell if the police work turns out to be too hard for any of you, or even if you just feel you need flushing down another toilet, and we'll swing by and help. Officer Hopps, Officer Clawhauser…. _Consultant_ Wilde. Smell you later. Goddamit it Garry, what did I tell you about glass doors? Peter, Geralt, help him up…."

Nick grimaced, and pinched the bridge of his nose "You know, one of these days us primarily olfactory mammals will need to reclaim that phrase from the unrepentantly douchey-guys."

"Huh, I thought it was a canine thing." Said Clawhauser.

"Only if you scent is mostly mountain dew, misogyny and desperation. Those crotch-sniffers do _not_ represent most canines."

"Well, I'm glad to see that you at least are more mature." Said Judy, laying a paw on Nick's shoulder, part of her glad he'd turned up when he did.

"Judy, I am the very spirit of maturity, dignity and responsibility. Say, Carrots, you think if I started howling we could get them all doing it? I bet Bogo would kick them out. Bet you a nickel."

"Oh, clearly maturity personified." Said Judy. "Nick, this is the ZPD, we're meant to be justice personified: we can't just embarrass or harass someone just because they're a bit of a douche….

Can we?" she asked Clawhauser.

"Way… _way_ ahead of you sister. Hey, Snowy!" he yelled, gesturing Drill Sergeant Furschia over as she waddled back in form her customary mid-morning raid on the Timmy Horton's in tundra town. "Great white north, get your butt over here! I got something for you."

"I swear to god, spots, if it's another Gokemon or Gazelle app I'm taking that phone and I'm shoving it in the elephant's graveyard where the light never touches, if you get my drift. Hey there sweetness." She said to Judy, distractedly. "Yeah, what? I don't have all day."

"You're retired and the academy is in-between intake: you're only here for the free donuts." Said Clawhauser, cattily. " Hey, I was meant to be giving these new wolves we hired as contractors a basic physical assessment… some nice, gentle, basic fitness testing exercises."

"And?" asked the big she-bear, slurring from a double double the approximate size of Nick. "Have you finally, officially, merged with your chair, becoming some sort of immobile robo-receptionist we just throw donuts into like we're offering up virgins to a volcano, leaving you unable to do it? If so, I win six bucks from the betting pool."

"Yes, but more importantly they were rude to Hopps." Said Clawhauser.

"Rude doesn't cover it. They were the guys guarding Cliffside. I'm about ninety per cent sure if they'd caught us they'd have killed us and fed the bodies to the savage mammals to dispose of the evidence." Said Judy, rubbing her arm slightly nervously. " _and_ they were fishing for info about our last case. The classified one."

"Break them, take scalps, leave no prisoners. Got it." Said Furschia, not even changing facial expression. "I'll tell Sergeant Tswalu and Lieutenant Crocus I need the gym, and if they want to stay they'll have to act as pace-setters for the rest. They'll hate that." Said Furschia, slurping coffee casually. "Wolves think that their stamina is all that, but those two have only just got warmed up, spotted hyena and painted dog, both insane hyper-competitive Misandrist's to boot? They've both done a sub two-hour marathon, at altitude, and the Rainforest District iron-mammal in 40 Celsius heat and 90% humidity. Once those two have got 'em warmed up, I'll take the pups through bleep testing and then they can try me for weights. I'll see what I can dredge up info-wise too." Said the bear, shambling off, "Hopps, Sweetness, if you're going to hit the shower move now before I clog the gym and changing room with pained, pained puppies. But first, let me go introduce myself. It would be _rude_ not to." She said, an evil gleam in her eye.

" _Hey, idiots, what are ya'all doing cluttering up my nice clear atrium, you scruffy wastes of fur!? Two lines, zero questions! NOW! I am Drill Sergeant Furschia, and I'm your worst nightmare leg-humpers: a 600 pound drill instructor with PMS and a badge and you just interrupted my mourning coffee and…. ARE YOU EYEBALLING ME MISTER?! Nayhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"_

Judy, rather than being relieved by that was made a little uneasy: if she was going to be working with the wolves, she didn't want bad blood between her and them any more so that already. Plus Furshia's _hit the showers_ comment made her suddenly hyper aware that she was standing in the middle of the atrium, the most public part of the ZPD, in gym clothes that amounted to little more than underwear, sweaty and ruffled-furred after an eight our morning shift and half hour on the running machine, with Nick standing _right there._

Judy adjusted her towel to cover her shoulders a little more, suddenly self-conscious.

 _It's okay, Jude, it's Nick and Clawhauser, they, um, they probably both know what a mess you are. Besides, I mean, not only are they both different species form you, but you're 90% sure Clawhauser's tastes run in different directions entirely, and Nick's fished you out of a river, bandaged a leg wound, and faked biting your throat, for Frith's sakes. You shouldn't be self-conscious about your body around him. Should you?_

But she was, somehow, so she coughed nervously and changed the subject.

"How, how could they even suspect something about…. About that last case?" she asked, genuinely put out. "Other that the feds, only us three and Bogo knew anything about it."

Nick shrugged, and then thy both looked to Clawhauser, playing on his phone. After a moment the cheetah noticed their glare.

"What? What? Oh, so it has to me me, does it? I'm not _that_ bad a gossip." He said.

"Spots, you and Furschia constitute about half the ZDP's gossip between you." Said Judy.

"Clawhauser." He corrected, suddenly and, if not angrily, then at least firmly. "Claws if you have to give me a nickname, but _never_ Spots. Bogo calls me Spots, Snowy over there too, but if you value your hides it not use spots, snowy or horns within earshot of Bogo or Furschia. Polite warning."

Nick and Judy shared a confused look, and then Nick said. "Oh-kay. Any reason I should know about?"

"Ancient history, sweetness. The sort that gets guarded by a giant rolling bolder and pit traps, and no good to come from Lara Croft-ing it. And I am not _that_ bad a gossip!"

His phone _Pinged._ They all looked at it.

"Okay, I am tweeting how Furschia is humiliating those wolves life, in real time. But who _wouldn't?_ besides, I know better than to cross the feds. Bogo would have my tail in seconds!"

Nick and Judy looked to each other, and shrugged. "Maybe it is just a rumour, Carrots. The guy was fishing, so maybe he doesn't know a thing. That's the simplest explanation, and you'd be surprised how often people miss what's right under their noses, even canines…." Said Nick, glancing down at Judy. His eyes then when wide, and he did a double-take: in his rush to deal with the wolves and back Judy up, he'd not even noticed she was in gym gear.

Nick coughed, trying to hide an exclamation under it as he looked away an Judy likewise coughed nervously and glanced in the other direction, ears drooping with embracement.

"I… erm." She snapped her fingers, and pointed to the gym. "I am going to go shower and change before I have to turn up to case assignments like this in front of the entire precinct."

"Yeah, yeah good shout. I'll see you up there, okay? For… um…. Case assignments." said Nick, trying not to perv as Judy hustled off to the showers but, sweet Jesus, those gym shorts didn't leave much to the imagination.

Embarrassed, Nick turned back to Clawhauser and tried to distract himself.

"So, Claws, how about that cell phone of yours! You still into that Gokemon thing, or did you stop when the craze peaked?"

"Still on it occasionally, but mostly geometry dash right now. You? You still into it?"

"Nah, not as such, I'm, er, pursuing a different, rarer prize right now." Said Nick, trying and failing not to stare at Judy.

"ohhhhhh!" said Clawhauser, nodding understandingly. "So you got _Gokemon Sol and Lun?_ "

"I've got something bad, right enough. " muttered Nick. He then frowned, disgusted, as he watched the ZPD consultant's badge bang off one of the wolves chests. _I work my tail of for one, and now suddenly they're just giving them out?_

"Uggg, Bogo really hired all these wolves?"

Clawhuser shorted soda out of his nose at that.

"Bogo? No, Bogo hated the idea, this is the DA and the governor forcing this on him. He dug his hooves in and made sure if they wanted it that bad, that they paid for it out of their budgets, these guys aren't even getting paid out of the ZPD consultancy budget, which is interesting considering."

"…. Considering what?" said Nick, his instinct for a con telling him to pry deeper, thumbs tingling.

"Oh, the budget you're being paid out of still has seventy-thousand in it, and we need to spend it all by the end of the year or not get it next year, so we either need to hire someone else as a consultant, like, _yesterday,_ or give you a huge raise."

Nick stared at Clawhauser. Clawhauser stared at Nick.

"Oh Gosh-darn it! I probably shouldn't have told you that!"

They both turned back to loom out across the atrium, Nick trying not to see dollar signs in his eyes.

Furschia had got two of the wolves, Larry and Garry, in the front -row, and was taking it in turns to roar in their faces, a long, low undulating _"Nyyyyyyyyaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh!"_ that never seemed to vary in pitch or tone.

"Is…. Is there even a _point_ to that?" asked Nick, after a moment, horrified. "I mean, she's not even using _words."_

"Hurm? Oh, no. She never does. " said Clawhauser, sipping soda through his straw and flicking over a page of his _Gazelle fan club magazine_ with a claw. "Not for the first few hours, anyway. They need to _earn_ words." He said.

They both regarded the big bear happily screaming herself horse for a long moment.

"She really needs to get a hobby." Said Nick.

"Tell me about it." Said Clawhauser.

* * *

Judy, combed back the last stray tufts of fur from the back of her ears, before putting the hare-brush back into her locker, and glancing once at her reflection in the mirror mounted on the inside of her locker door to check there were no stray hairs on her uniform, she nodded, and slammed the door.

She'd initially been surprised that Bogo had asked her to bring Nick to the daily briefing, but in hindsight it made sense: Bogo was a mammal of his word and a famous stickler for the rules, the ultimate by-the-book cop. So if he promised to give someone consultancy work if they passed a test case, he would, even if he couldn't stand the person and made no secret of it.

That said… Bogo and Nick in the same room? She was going to make damn sure she was as sharp and presentable as possible, because she doubted that Nick was going to make a good impression on the chief and she felt that she ought to do her best to counter-act that.

Hustling back out through the atrium, sidestepping a panicked looking wolf getting what she recognised form her time at the academy as Furschia's third best glare, she moved over to Nick, who was waiting for her by the stairs, playing with his sunglasses distractedly. She had to suppres a grin at that. she didn't know if he was doing it intentionally or it was subconscious and he was unaware he did it, but Nick had a tendency to play with his aviators when he wanted to act "Cop like". For example, insisting on wearing them on every ride along. Maybe he just associated the brand with police movies.

"Ready to go?" she asked, Hopping past him and up the first stair. He fell into pace at her side naturally, nodding.

"Born ready, Carrots. Let's fight some crime!" he said, making finger guns at people and making a pew-pew noise under his breath. She rolled her eyes. Most mammals would be nervous about their first real day on the job, but Nick being Nick seemed to just find it hilarious.

"And you understand the way that these briefings work?" she prompted. He nodded eagerly.

"I sit down and shut up, and if I do or say anything to embarrass you in front of other cops you'll kick me so hard I'll fly backwards around the world reversing time and making my own grandparents retroactively brain damaged from the kick?"

"Got it in one." She said, cheerfully. "So kindly holster those six-shooters before I demonstrate some concealed carry with them." She said. Nick, reluctantly, stopped making the finger-gun gesture at people. He still seemed weirdly chipper about something though, and part of that was setting of low-level alarm bells in Judy's mind. If he was _this_ happy, then something was up.

"You're in a good mood." She said, lightly, wondering where to go next if he didn't bite. Nick snorted, and smiled that faint little smug smile of his.

"And you're an awful interrogator, for a cop. It's okay Carrots, you can just ask me what it was Clawhauser told me."

 _Claws! I might have known._ She groaned inwardly. "If it's the story from the academy about that first day in weapons training-"

"Where the rifle's recoil knocked you clean over and Furschia laughed so hard she swallowed her gum and started to choke and you had to Heimlich her by jumping into her stomach, no, I've already heard that one, like, weeks ago. No, I just found out that the consultancy budget I'm being paid out of has to be entirely used up by the end of the year, or the ZPD will get a smaller grant next year!"

"Huh? Ohm, yeah, so? That's pretty standard with government funding contracts. Why?"

"There's still _seventy thousand_ dollars in it Hopps! Bogo has to spend _seventy grand_ in a matter of weeks, and he's only got me to spend it on! Ker-ching ker-ching, paycheck. Oh, he's going to be _so_ salty about it too, I can tell. This'll really annoy him, I can tell!"

Judy groaned. "Nick, don't provoke Bogo, for pity's sakes honestly, what's wrong with you?"

"I'm reverting to my primitive, savage ways?"

"Okay, I'm going to have to put a limit on the number of times per week you can bring that up to make me feel bad and win arguments."

"I'll get a card to keep track, like with free coffee." He said, winking. "You have a little paw print shaped stamp, right? One free latte every ten guilt trips. Deal?"

She had to laugh at that. it was imposable to stay mad at him.

Although, she thought as she pushed open the doors to the bullpen, Bogo was having a very good go at it.

 _it isn't like him to be here first._ She realised, as she walked in and found the room was silent, everyone already at attention. _He likes you to be in here messing around, so he can storm in and make a big entrance, yelling at us to settle down…_

The effect with everyone in the room silent and at attention was very different. It was actually quite sinister, all those silent unformed shapes, so much taller than her, just watching… and she suddenly realised that was exactly why Bogo had done it: he was trying to freak out Nick.

It seemed to be working, because as he entered the Bullpen after her, Nicks banter died away, and his ears flattened and his fur stood up a little as he got the vibe. Swallowing nervously, he glanced to Judy for re-assurance just once, and then followed her to the seat that had been saved for them, near the front. More a practicality than a courtesy given that they'd never see over the larger mammals if they were at the back, but it had the secondary effect of maximising the distance Nick had to walk, so Bogo and the other cops had more time to glare at him evilly.

Nick awkwardly pulled himself up onto his chair, Judy giving a hand pulling him up, and when he was there, he looked around.

"Oh, well this is friendly." He joked, grinning nervously to break the tension.

"Wipe that smug look of you face, Wilde!" growled Bogo

"Um, actually, chief, I think you'll find that that smug look _is_ my face."

Bogo leaned in, and stared long and hard at Nick from a very close distance, as if confirming this, making the fox shift nervously.

"You're quite right, my apologies…. Wilkins! Sit in front of Wilde so I don't have to look at him!"

"That won't be necessary sir," said Judy. "Nick has been briefed and is going to be suitably serious, solemn and respectful through the entire meeting."

"I am? _Oww!_ Right, right I am!" he said, rubbing at his deadened arm, while Judy sat staring straight back and Bogo radiating professional alertness.

Bogo cleared his throat loudly, and Nick finally shut up.

"Now what we're all _finally_ here…" he growled, despite the fact that Nick and Judy both knew they were perfectly on time. "Three items on the Docket."

"One, as the more astute of you will have noticed, we have some new faces with us today, sticking their muzzles in where they've got no business being," he said, eyes flicking to Nick just once.

"But the District attorney and governor insisted, so we're stuck with the wolves literally at our door and we'll all just have to deal with it. The one upshot of this is for the first time since we founded it, Fangmire, your Nighthowler task force might actually be adequately staffed, so make the best of it. While the money lasts, we've got a hundred and fifty extra noses, and rather unfortunately the rest of the bodies that go with them, but let's make the most of it. _Saftynet_ has got the criminals running scared, so let's strike while the irons hot. Fangmire take the _entire_ task force and all of those merc's, and seal off the choke-points between rainforest and the other biomes, and then I want a block by block, street by street sweep of the Rainforest District. Once you're done, leave a few wolves on every route in or out of Rainforest to stop any Nighthowler getting back in, and hit Sahara, and then Tundra town and then the triangle and keep repeating. Let's hit this on the head before they can go to ground again: we shut down three labs last week alone, one of which was pumping out something so impure it was killing users of renal failure before they even had a chance to go savage. Nail the Blighters, Fangmire, and pull everyone you need of other duties to do it.

"Because, this is getting even nastier.

"Item two on the Docket, as many of you working in the triangle and Midtown may have heard by now, we have a _serious_ problem developing. Hopps, lights please. Thank you." He said, as the room darkened. He put the projector on again.

"You all remember Victor, our dead prize-fighter pulled out of the river last month after coming of worse against an opponent high on Nighthowler? Well, after that, Vice decided to put some of our intelligence assets in place, and try to get some information out of our usual informant network into who was running these fights….. and _this_ was the result."

 _Click._

"uggg, oh, _yeash!_ Content warning!" said Nick, grabbing his muzzle with both hands and looking away.

"You think you get content warnings at crime scenes, consultant Wilde?" asked Bogo.

"No sir…. You miss-understand, that was _me_ warning you all that the contents of my stomach just tried to escape!" Judy Kicked Nick under the table, he seemed to upset to even notice. "What _happened_ to them?"

Bogo ginned, clearly enjoying that fact that Nick had just given him the opportunity to lecture on it.

" _Who_ happened to him would be a better question. Argali are famously tough, and Vincent here was a long-time informant who knew how to cover his tracks and look after himself. Not that it seemed to help him any in this instance."

"In this instance? Where did his _body_ go? He's just a spine, some hooves and some horns! I've seen more meat on _soy_ dogs Ugg, next slide!"

"An astute observation as always Wilde. But the fox has hit it largely on the head: it kind of looks bad for our reputation if long-time police informants are turning up _eaten_ , and the DA was somewhat concerned that this might discourage mammals form coming forward with information somewhat."

"They… they did this to him because he spoke to the cops?" asked Judy, horrified.

Bogo sighed. "I sure as hell hope so: he's the third one like this, and we've not even I.D. the others. As bad as a Nighthowler fueled hit on an informant might be, the alternative is even worse. Either it's someone covering up the fights, or it's a serial killer. Same M.O. in all three cases, eaten alive in their own homes, and some punk dumps cigarette butts and the lint from industrial laundromat's dryer filters on the scene afterwards."

"Ugggg, well that's one way to throw off forensics I guess: good luck getting a DNA or fiber hit after that, you'd have saliva, fur and clothing fibers for half the city in that room!" Muttered Nick.

Bogo snorted. "Bloody CSI: this was so much easier before tv taught criminals how to mess with us. But no, no hits. Dental from the gnawed bones gives us a rough guild to the species of the killer, but that's it. Snarloff, Higgins, you're on this stinker. Your suspect pool currently includes every canine in the greater zootopia area. Start with Wilde, and after that there only 150 more downstairs, and then once we've made sure it's not one of the wolves in this actual building that only leaves about a hundred thousand other mammals in the city you need to get elimination evidence from." Said Bogo, sarcastically.

"And on that note, the final item on the docket: as some of you may well know, were short staffed at the moment, and given the seventy thousand dollars in the consultancy budget, I've decided to bring in some extra help for the interim and spend the money on an external consultant who is joining us today, and many of you may have noticed…."

Nick sat up a little straighter at this.

"Some of you may well recognize them form before, as they were an expert and invaluable help to us during the Otterton missing mammals case and subsequent _Nighthowler_ case."

Nicks ears shot up, and he smiled smugly and fluffed his tail with some pride.

"And, joking aside, I think I speak for all of us when I say we at the ZPD happy, indeed proud to work with such an esteemed member of the community again…."

Camera focus on Nick, centre screen.

"So lets have a big precinct one welcome back to…. Madam Nangi the mystical!"

*camera dolly-zooms backwards to reveal the elephant sitting right next to Nick.*

"What." Said Nick.

"Madam Nangi, we all look forwards to your mystical insight as our resident consulting psychic." Said Bogo, eye glinting as he stared directly at Nick, daring him to comment. "Indeed, I for one can't think of anyone more deserving of the money in the consultancy budget. I'm hoping you will once again aid us, as you did when hired by Lionheart to scry for our missing mammals."

The elephant seemed to finally realize Bogo was talking to her.

"Who?"

Bogo stared. "Mayor Lionheart."

Nangi looked around the room, and then glare back at Bogo, confused.

"Who?"

"Money well spent." Said Bogo, glancing down at Nick victoriously. "Dismissed, all of you! Oh, Hopps, bring the fox, my office, ten minutes. New assignment or you, but it's too delicate to do in front of the others. "

"Right chief!"

Nick sat open mouthed for a long time, as the room emptied.

"Did, did I just get trolled by the chief of police?" he asked after some time.

"Yes, and it was brutal." Said Judy.

"Yeah….. god help me Carrots, I think I'm actually starting to _like_ Bogo!" he said, grinning and sliding off the chair. "Well, let's see what this is about!"

* * *

Bogo met Nick and Judy in his office, Nick still complaining about both Nangi and the wolves. Both Bogo and Judy ignored him.

"Sit down, the both of you." Said Bogo, gruffly.

They sat down. Bogo did too, slumping in a way that indicated he was less than happy with the situation, and then snorted.

"How's the leg, Hopps?"

"Little stiff in the cold, but otherwise good as new, thanks to Nick's fast actions, sir."

Bogo snorted. "You two did well against Bellweather, and with Remes. I'll give you that. So let's cut to the chase, shall we? As the wolves downstairs show, and the fact that I had just had to hire the world's most useless mystic in order to keep a grant for next year, it should be clear that I am no-longer remotely in charge of what I get to spend the city's law enforcement budget on: from the Mammal Inclusion Incisive to DARE, to that forgetful narcoleptic yoga instructor, I'm beholden to so many state, city and federal funding bodies that I can no longer control what gets cash real policing should get, let alone what gets the ZPD brand attached to it. With me so far?"

"Wouldn't be with you if that wasn't the case, literally wouldn't" said Nick, happily. "You'd never have hired me."

"Right… so whatever happens, you can't blame me for _this."_ He said, spilling a half-dozen glossy leaflets across the table.

Judy picked one up, and then froze like it was a spider in her paws.

Her own face beamed out at her from a glossy recruitment poster, a draft of what looked like a full-page magazine advertisement.

It was worryingly familiar.

 _No!_

Nick, however, had never seen it before, and seemed pleased. "Huh. Neat: they got your good side, Carrots, so…. When do I get mine? I get poster to, right? and not one that says _wanted_ anywhere on it."

"Nick….. chief, this…. This is the recruitment add _Bellwether_ designed! Me as the herbivore face of the ZPD."

Nick froze up. "What?" he sounded disgusted. "What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked Bogo.

"Age, indigestion, budgetary constraints and a massive ginger-furred pain up my backside, Wilde. In this case budgetary constraints: some moron at the mayor's office has decided that since we've already spent the money on graphic designers, it's not viable for us to get new recruitment material this budget cycle, so we _have_ to release the adverts Bellwether designed. We've got no budget to re-do them. Sorry."

"I… Chief, I don't want this!" protested Judy.

"Me neither, but we don't have a choice: you're employment contract has a clause that allows the ZPD to use your distinctive likeness in recruitment adds and other media releases, same as mine, standard contract. The only way to stop it is if you're undercover, and given you're a rookie with under a year on the force and I can't legally send you under cover anyway, your only way to stop this is to quit. I'm sorry Judy, the adds go live next month."

Bogo and Judy digested this for a moment. Nick, however, was leaving through the pages of adds, flyers, and promo, quarter sized posters, disgusted.

"There isn't a _single_ pred in any of these adverts! It's not just Judy everywhere, all the background cops are Prey animals! We're not represented at all! Oh, wait, no, spoke to soon _literally every example_ of a perp being arrested is a pred. That's our one depiction in this, as criminals!"

Bogo winced. "Bellwether. She's screwing with us still, from her jail cell. She set the budget for this before her arrest, so no matter what, we couldn't get the photo shoot re-done. Yes, those would probably cause a small race riot if those hit the shelves, so we managed to scrounge together a coupe of hundred bucks and get the boys in the identity- parade and CCTV departments to digitally edit the final release poster to make them more inclusive. These are the final drafts." Bogo said, handing over a sheaf of papers. Nick and Judy took them and studied them, Judy looking horrified and embarrassed every time she saw her own face, Nick squinting suspiciously.

"These… These are exactly the same." Said Nick, after a while.

"It was a small budget, we did the best we could to add positive pred role-models into the shots in post-production, but we only had a day to do it before they went to the printers, so it was a little… Rushed."

"What is this, a dammed where's Waldo? I'm still not seeing it." Nick complained sardonicaly. They all three squirted, until Judy eagerly tapped Nick on his shoulder and pointed.

"There!"

Nick groaned.

"Did you guys literally just Photoshop the same stock picture of Clawhauser into the back of every crowd-shot?"

"No, actually we took several shots of him, they just all came out looking like that. He always looks like that in photos. It's uncanny." Said Bogo, glancing out at the employee of the month wall, where a hundred identical Clawhauser's looked down, giving identical thumbs up. He glanced as Clawhauser, as he passed by the office on one of his errands, noticed Bogo looking at him, and struck and identical grin and thumbs up. Bogo sighed and pulled the blinds to block that out.

"Jesus, it really _is_ a where's Waldo!" said Nick. He then started to go through each one, trying to spot Clawhauser. " Huh, in this one he's wearing a hat and… dammit! In this one he's circle-game-ing the camera!"  
 _  
_Bogo groaned, and covered his eyes. "It's not ideal, I'm just warning you as early as possible: it was this or no recruitment posters at all."

"Is that such a bad thing, compared to this trash?" asked Nick, holding up a glossy flyer that had Judy on the front,but on the back depicted a feral looking lion getting handcuffed by worryingly good looking ram and hippo, with Clawhauser unconvincingly giving them a grinning tums up for the back of the watching crowd. "I'm not exactly comfortable with this."

"Well, it can't be worse than our old recruitment and crime prevention posters." asked Bogo phlegmaticaly, going over the the glass wall of the office, and pulling up the blinds so they could look out to the corridor wall opposite.

A large blue and white poster glared down at them. On it Drill Sergeant Furschia pointed Uncle -Sam style and glowered at the camera under a giant ZPD logo and the caption that just said. WE'RE WATCHING YOU, SO DON'T EVEN _THINK_ ABOUT IT!

Both Nick and Judy shot up on their chairs a little in shock. Nick winced and said "Okay, in hind sight that's way worse than – _Ahhhhhhhha!"_ he yelled, grabbing onto Judy as the poster surged forwards, and Sergeant Furschia slammed her paws into the glass of the office window, snarling. Judy shot up in start, and even Bogo flinched.

The big she bear bust out laughing. "Sorry, I was walking past and overheard you talking about posters and couldn't resist….."

Bogo stared, duck-faced and appalled. "Sergeant, were you waiting there in that exact pose _just_ so you could make that forced perspective joke?"

"Yeah well… I'm retired and the academy is in between intake at the moment, so I've got a lot of time on my paws… what ya'all doing in there?" she asked, putting both huge hairy paws on the glass with an annoying squeaky sound, and turning her head sideways so she could bring and eye closer to the glass that her long muzzle would allow, and peering in.

Bogo glared at her impassively for a moment, and then just closed the blinds on her.

"Awwwww." Said the blinds.

"She _really_ needs to get a hobby." Said Judy.

"Tell me about it." Muttered Bogo reclaiming his seat and the room's collective dignity.

"So just a warning, that even if you don't keep taking high profile cases, Hopps, that you won' be able to avoid the press for much longer. You've arrived, and trust me, no one ever likes that in the long run."

"So…. You _are_ about to offer us a high profile case?" asked Nick. "Because I for one cannot wait to stick it to those wolves and that dumb elephant and…." Nick realised that Judy and Bogo were both staring at him, and the Judy still seemed a little shaken by the revelation that she was going to be the unwilling face of the ZPD.

 _Great, because being insensitive and emotionaly scaring your crush is a smooth move, Nick._ He thought, shutting up promptly.

"Could I speak with you about that for a moment, officer Hopps?" asked Bogo "Alone." He added, darkly. Nick got the hint and reluctantly slinked off.

Judy paused, and remained seated on her chair, wondering exactly what had gone wrong now.

Bogo shut the door before returning to his desk, he shuffled some papers vaguely, and then took off his reading glasses and asked, a little gruffly.

"How are you holding up officer? Your recent cases have hardy been pleasant."

"Sir?" asked Judy, in just the right tones of earnest concern. The word "Sir?" asked as a question with various different inflections was the policemammals one true friend when dealing with un-expected questions from their superiors. From alert and keen, to gormless with just a hint of apologetic, used correctly it would do you no wrong. Even Nick's skill at answering questions with other questions paled in comparison to it.

Bogo sighed "Judy." he said, and that's when alarm bells started to ring, because a senior officer unexpectedly using your given name never bodes well, being just one red flag lower than the infamously ill-omened words off the record.

"Off the record, is everything okay with you and your current case load Hopps? I make no apologies for you're being overworked, we're all overworked just now…. But you do seem to have accidentally drawn some of the less savoury cases of late, and it's been flagged by the station councillor that you've not raised it with her. I'm just informally checking that you're all right. You seem to have drawn the sticky end of the stick of late, officer."

Judy paused, she had to admit that that was true. "No one said that police work was going to be easy or pleasant, sir…"

Actually, most of her job was. About 90% of all police work, at her level, was low-risk tedium, with eight out of ten of her interactions with the just public tourists asking for direction or minor traffic stuff. Of those that warranted her exercising her authority as an officer of the law, most didn't end in arrest: her responses ranging from a formal caution and the threat of arrests, giving a drunk who was worse for wear a quick medical check and chivvying their friends into taking them home, to talking calmly in a soft voice until every stopped crying and explained just what the hell was going on.

It was the small percentage you didn't see coming that kicked you in the teeth. She pointed this out to Bogo, and he agreed.

"True, but your recent cases…" he flicked through a clipboard of yellow copies of reports

"Exemplary police work in all of them, but just looking at your recent cases, that thing over the holidays: many officers would have just dropped the calf off with socials services, filed a report, and run home for Christmas, and no one would have thought less of you if you'd done that, but you stayed the distance to do the right thing, and in particular your due diligence with the DNA work brought a very nasty situation to a prompt end, caught a dangerous criminal who is now enjoying the warm welcome that city goals reserve only for child molesters, and quite possibly saved two lives, because there is no knowing where that would have ended if you'd not put a prompt stop to it. I note that Wilde was involved in ending this?"

"He was there, sir, but only at the end."

"Well, it's more that social serves were, or us for that matter, we should have seen this earlier… anyway, that does him some credit. But on top of that… your mugging gone wrong last week…"

"Any news?" asked Judy, earnest and worried for real this time.

Bogo drummed his fingers on the table. "It's not a murder case yet, if that's what you're asking. But you don't need to be a doctor to know that with multiple gunshot wounds and double pneumonia he's unlikely to pull through. Then there was your house search, and the traffic incident last week."

Judy winced. The house search had been routine, but unpleasant. Neighbours in a nice suburban neighbourhood had finally noticed that they'd not seen an elderly neighbour since Labour Day, and between that and the funny smell someone eventually called the cops. Francine had had to break the door down, and from the stench they'd known right away what they were going to find, but someone had had to go in and check, and given an elephant wouldn't fit through the door, that left it to Judy. Even if you knew how these stories always ended, you couldn't just palm the whole job off to forensics there and then, you had a duty of care to do due diligence and confirm there was no one in the building who was at risk or needed help, _protective sweep_ it was called. The neighbour had been a hoarder, as it turned out, and it took Judy some time to locate what was left of the body, crushed under a fallen stack of newspapers taller than Francine.

The car crash had been worse. Most civilians would assume that the first dead body a police officer would see would be a murder, or at least a suicide, but it's almost always traffic. Her first had been in the awkward gap between that awful press conference and her quitting the force. As they went it wasn't too bad, the body was a mess, hitting a bridge support as speed would do that, but the driver had been alone in their car, no others hurt, and he was quite old. The ME said he'd had a fatal stroke behind the wheel, most likely, and never even felt the crash. It was sad, but Judy had gone to bed that night worrying about the mistrust between pred and prey she'd stirred up and whether Nick was okay or not. It hadn't weighed on her mind

Last week… head on, Two cars, High speed. She was the first responder, and had found the passenger, a young tapir, wandering the roadside with the pale, wide eyed, vacant look that indicated shock. She'd laid him down safely off the road, elevated his legs, called an ambulance, and then checked the drives, both of whom were beyond any help mortals could give. She'd gone back to keep the passenger, Darren, warm and keep talking to him soothingly until the paramedics arrived. He was eighteen, driving with his Dad, and had just enrolled in college. He was going to be a doctor, and save lives. He was going to make the wold a better place, he said, like her.

The car crash had apparently ruptured an artery, and he was bleeding internally, invisible to both him and Judy, and he died on that roadside without warning or fuss while Judy held his hand, still asking if his dad was okay. The paramedics said even if the car had crashed _in_ the surgical trauma suite, there would still have been no way to save him in time. He was a dead mammal walking before Judy even met him, apparently.

Strangely, that didn't make it feel any better.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I'm okay sir. It's just rotten luck, that's how the cases fell, sir."

Bogo gave her a long, slow look. "Okay, Hopps. Fair enough. And if you ever need to talk, my door is…. Actually, no, go see a real therapist, we have several and they're all better at this stuff than me. Anyway, these cases, have you had any sensitivity training? Family liaison, anything like that?"

"No, sir, I'm still on probation." The ZPD didn't give speciality training to cops on their two year probation: they had enough on their plate as it was, and there was no point spending the money on it when a large percentage of rookie cops discovered they couldn't hack it and quit in their first two years.

"And yet you've handled everything from angry soccer crowds to grieving relatives flawlessly. You seem to have a knack for defusing bad situations and comforting the needy, Hopps, a rare skill at it in fact." Said Bogo.

"I… I just treat them how I'd like to be treated, sir, they're just mammals. I treat them like I'd treat anyone, sir."

Bogo glared for a long time, and then grunted and pushed a file across the table to her. She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm offering this, not ordering it. It is a request from the feds, not an instruction from the ZPD. You can refuse it at will, and no one with think any worse of you for it. And I'm offering it without Wilde here because he'd jump at it and try and get you to take it, to prove a point, but I want your opinion on it. This has the makings of a really awful case for everyone involved, but still… you have the right skill set."

She opened the file. "A kidnapping, sir?"

"Emphasis on Kid: stolen baby, god's help us. Always gets everyone stressed as hell, and more than likely to end badly. To make matters worse, the mother is a state senator, hence the high profile federal involvement. Dana Calopus, famously a real hard-ass, and at about her wits end by the sound of it. So a stressed, frightened angry alpha-bitch mother who makes her living verbally tearing people to shreds, and has the connections and power to ruin the career of anyone who dares to stick their snouts into her moment of grief. And if that's not enough, she's one of many centre-right candidates trying to mop up what's left of Bellwether's political assets. Not only has losing the mayor opened up the job and created a power vacuum, but it's started a major race to win over the allegiance of all her supporters: the mammals who voted for Bellweather haven't gone anywhere, and while her allies are openly distancing themselves from Bellwether, there's still going to be dozens of mammals involved in this case who'd be quite happy to see you and Nick disappear of the face of the earth over your involvement. It's a perfect storm, and has all the hallmarks of ending up as a real hot mess. The kind that stains anyone involved with it."

"Wow."

"Yes. Oh, and other than ZG, everyone involved with this wants no part of you or Nick there, the fed's will give you the cold shoulder too. But with Nick's brains and your heart and brains…" Bogo shrugged. "I'd still not touch it with a barge poll, if I had any sense. It's a garbage fire of a case."

"So, to sum up: nasty case, emotionally charged, likely to end badly, and certain career suicide?" asked Judy.

"Pretty much."

Judy checked the file. There was a photo there of the victim, a family shot, showing two antelope, with a teen cheetah at their side, smiling and holding a tiny baby antelope, small and helpless and precious.

Judy got out a pen and her notepad.

"What can you tell me about the baby?" she asked


End file.
